The bamboo stick
I no longer go for walks without my bamboo stick. Tightly held in my hand, thin and light, it beats the invisible particles which try to land on me and bite. My face is hidden as in shame under a rough gag, my hands are getting rusty, missing the touch of other hands. My skin cooks under the hot water, the soap and the gel. Thorny dreams ... which I would like smooth. I gaze at the horizon ... yes, maybe one day, when I, at long last, can reveal my face and fly with other wings, plant my bamboo stick into the soil, practise my magic on it, so that little by little it becomes a protective hedge against all the stinging midges.
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Author's Note
In times of pandemic ...
Other stories by Erika Byrne-Ludwig
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thorny dreams, just like the times we live in *
Ah, yes, save us from those damned stinging midges!
"... yes, maybe one day, when I, at long last, can reveal my face and fly with other wings, plant my bamboo stick into the soil"
I like the compression in this piece, Erika. *
When no longer covid. We wish.
Lovely work.
This is gorgeous writing.
"Thorny dreams ... which I would like smooth."
Nicely done *
Many thanks everyone. I always appreciate your comments.
*, Erika. Remarkable verse.
Many thanks, David. Nice compliment.
"Tightly held in my hand, thin and light, it beats the invisible particles which try to land on me and bite."*
Love it.
Thank you, Tim. Glad you like it.
"practise my magic on it, so that little by little it becomes a protective hedge against all the stinging midges."
Hopeful.
Yes, Diane, some magic might help. Thank you Diane.
* practice that magic
"In Australian and British English, 'practise' is the verb and 'practice' is the noun. In American English, 'practice' is both the verb and the noun."
I didn't know ... Thank you Gary.:)