THE ANCIENT ROCKS OF CHERRA
(For Nigel, Who Questioned)
This land is old, too old
and withered for life to be easy.
Poverty eats into the hills and squeezes
a living from stones and caterpillars
gathered for out-of-town drunks
each market day.
Where the serpent’s death throes ¹
cut deep wounds into the land
lie deep gorges like fiendish mouths
yawning for desperate victims.
There is nothing remarkable here
only this incredible barrenness.
Men and trees have left their habitats
to a crude and lowly breed like brush,
but the sight of dark grey rocks like sages
spells home to me.
