Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Out of Water

A food fish flopped
on the market floor,
unnoticed till I passed by

and lingered as helpless as he.

Men saw, and they shouted
in the language of the fish.

I watched from behind some bread
to see that the fish was saved.

It had been days since I'd seen
the melancholy tears of home.

Then kind eyes watched me
on the market floor
as I nodded and gestured,
unable to speak,

and the old man asked,
'Where are you from?'

He'd heard of my home,
and smiled at me,
and for that moment
I could breathe.

I swam off quickly
and grateful to him;
he'd saved me from drowning
when I'd forgotten to swim.

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