This week’s poem inspired by a dream, memories of Tanzania, and the knowledge that there are things we can not control.
Dreams of Falling
But what of falling
Backwards? Passenger seat of a car,
Driver who will not listen, laughing
Foot-slipping pedals.
Crashing backwards through thorny undergrowth,
Over the edge,
Moment when you realize,
Seat-belt’s embrace as
You fall backwards.
A long, long way down.
Falling, falling backwards,
Mto-wa-Mbu damp rift wall
Flashes past in green and grey.
Neck twisted to see dusty,
Scattered bush below.
Trees rush upwards,
Hungry eyes are on us,
Tree-climbing lions watching,
Watching in yellow-eyed fascination
As we fall
Down, down.
And then I remember no more.
Nyborg 2017
Wow! Ain’t we always, from the cradle to the grave, falling only backwards!
Perhaps, but this dream stood out, scary but also beautiful.
For years I was addicted to falling dreams. According to Wikipedia: The name Mto wa Mbu means “River of Mosquitoes”!
That’s right, Mto wa Mbu is the River of Mosquito in Swahili. I’m touched by your level of commitment to understanding my poems! Thank you!
Meget skræmmende at miste fodfæste. Både i drømme og i virkeligheden.