Kahlo & The Flood Waters- A flash fiction

It was a wee, small voice being ripped to shreds by the wind; being dragged under by a careless tide that pulled Kahlo into step number 785.  The purity of it.  Concentric circles swirling in rainbow colors, like cotton candy cocooning the child.  From the middle, a feeble voice calling Kahlo’s name.

It didn’t take much to reach the babe.  Just two languid steps. Precise and unhurried.  One in an atmosphere beaucoup light years away; another on this quickly disappearing earth.  The unslackened thirst of the flood waters swallowed everything and everyone whole.  But this little whimsy of a child, with tubes still taped to its skin, tubes that had earlier undoubtedly connected it to some life-saving machine, had the presence of spirit to call for Kahlo.  Ancestral memory has been known to save a people.

Kahlo raised the infant above the crescent of the next wave.  As the waters crashed against them, crystallized images of every past and future life of the small one danced around them, in technicolor.  The flood waters became a tarot spread, that showed Kahlo everything.  Who the child was in this present moment; who the child had been before; and who the child would become was all revealed.  Kahlo was humbled by it all.

“You are my mirror.” Kahlo whispered gently into its tiny ear.  It had been 784 steps, and this was the first child of Dagara that Kahlo had ever met! Surely this was a sign.  Kahlo could not wait to return home, to consult the water shrine.  But that would take even more light years.  By then, this foundling of the water would be an ancestral memory itself.

The baby was eventually found by community rescue workers. It lay on high ground; it was shriveled and tucked safely amongst windswept branches, leaves, rocks and other debris forming a sort of natural bunker.  News reporters spoke of “Maria’s miracle child”.  Everyone wondered who the baby was and where it had come from.  It would be some time before all of that would be very publicly sorted out.  Questions surrounding health care for the poor and vulnerable would be asked and addressed, and things would change.  For Kahlo, to have had the chance to see oneSelf…one’s Soul…in the eyes of another outside of home, was the takeaway.

“To know for sure, that I am not alone in this vast space made up of yesterdays, todays and tomorrows.”  Kahlo’s thoughts were meditations.  They were the fodder that fueled the next step.  Number 786.

thu1

 

Advertisements

Imagination Garden

by Sha’ifa Dietra Malik  (Mami Watu)

c 2017

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Imagination Garden

there once was a little

girl whose imagination

was fertile soil

she absorbed every book

she read

like rain on the Sahara

like a sponge on the bottom

of the deepest

darkest ocean

she absorbed everything

time passed

and that little girl grew

into a woman who loved

words

words became a garden in which she could always play

words nurtured her

like the sun nurtures

a tree

they protected her

from cold winds

and changing tides

even now

this girl-woman

sees every book

that lands in the hands

of every child

as if it were a seed

being planted in the most fertile of ground

the imagination of a child

and what will grow there?

ideas as brilliant as tulip bulbs

laughter as robust as cabbages

faith-hope-charity

sprouting

from beans, squash and corn

and how can we be sure?

because there once was a little girl

whose imagination was fertile soil

she absorbed every book

she ever read

like rain on the Sahara

like a sponge on the bottom

of the deepest

darkest ocean

she stands before you now

having absorbed everything

she ever read

and so

may the planting of nature’s seeds

and

the nurturing of young minds

be forever entwined…

Plastic Bag Caught in Tree Branches

plastic birds

     caught in trees

undisturbed

     by the breeze

          unendowed with a song

featherless

     yet strong

plastic birds

     you will flutter

          long after atomic sirens have been uttered

 

Click Here to Download Full Resolution Image Free high resolution photo of what’s left of a plastic bag caught in the branches of a winter tree.

Source: Plastic Bag Caught in Tree Branches