Occupy Poetry

Borneo Hard By

BY Peggy Aylsworth

The moment will not start again.
Again has fallen with the forest.

Wild green lost to oil palm gold.
He put out his hand, but air

gave only remnants of smoke.
His blow pipe, poison darts –

Feet in the river’s silt part
the rushing water. His name

too much at risk. Trespass,
new to native tongue.

Continents away, no mind for maps,
a child receives a visitation,

new friend, shaped as secret
not conjured, more real than real.

In a moment of gazing, he heard
a call, a name, this Borneo.

From: 
Peggy Aylsworth

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