Dilantha Gunawardana


Water 2


A clay pot over her temple
Swaying gently are her hip bones ample
A maiden plodding on an unforgiving sand dune
Braving the sun in sweat’s immune

Auburn locks and copper skin
In these graveyards of a scorching thin
Where the brawn and might of vultures hover
In the dire absence of cloud cover

Two innocent tots beneath a canopy
In these bleakest of land, in a dystopic anarchy
Where black gold gushes yet no sign of water
As AK-47s and machetes leave a trail of slaughter

Prayers reverberate from Solomon’s soil
As sweat flows like the Nile to soften the toil
Yet she walks steadfast to a sun-parched well
To tap the springs of earth’s wine for the thirst to quell

Water the elixir to innocence and terrorists alike
As she gallantly marches amidst an adrenalin spike
Back to the doorway to where her tots eagerly await
Away from Lucifer’s arms to the bosom of fate

Auburn locks gently hover like feathers atop
As the winds gather speed neck and crop
She wipes away the sweat with her naked palm
As the gods scheme miracles for life’s embalm

The dunes long on the cover of a marathon earth
Yet no trickle from the heavens no tears of mirth
As she gazes at Ra perched on the heavens above
In her journey enflamed by the cauldron of love

She walks across to the jaws of doubt
Yet miracles are alive as the raging winds clout
She gathers speed to the only home she has ever known
In the absence of paradise to call her very own

Finally she gazes at a tent perched in this great wide open
As two tots gallop towards her imbued with love unspoken
The journey back home to find the stock of life
Even amidst predatory aviaries where vultures are rife

Water the pus of the wounded earth
Water the sweat of her sweltering hearth
Water the tears that trickle to heal misery’s call
Water the keeper of life she carries beneath her shawl

Submitted: Friday, January 10, 2014
Edited: Saturday, January 11, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

A poem on a pregnant African woman with two children who journeys for water

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