POETRY |
Silvery sounds ting through the air.
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A Singing from Middle Earth
by Elsa Fernandez
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A dancing girl held her hand out,
riata marks still red on her wrists. Young, no more than fifteen years. One arm, bangled with grimed silver stretched by her side, limp. Staring at me, eyes wise and wary. Hair knotted under caked red mud she hid behind a Gulmohar tree, her tarnished ghungroos sound muted. The archaeologist at the Museum stopped by the small statue—The Dancing Girl. Curious schoolchildren crowd him. She was our favorite find, he said. When the Great Bath was excavated. Her gaze is mettlesome. Walking out into rebounding heat-- the child-woman leans again the tree, her eyes sharp, she sings softly. I want to give her money—she is gone. Mineral dust spins where she stood. Silvery sounds ting through the air. Voices stilled in the Indus Valley, buried under the hot sands, as cities slowly died-- scattering souls to Middle Earth.
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Elsa Fernandez grew up in Asia. She has lived in San Francisco since 1970 and never gets tired of this lovely city. She has travelled the world and still gets excited flying back home and to finally land at SFO. Her family is scattered around the world—India, Australia, Dubai, England, Ireland and Argentina. She is a political junkie and majored in Journalism and Political Science. She loves music and plays the piano quite well (one of her dreams was to own a piano bar in upcountry Maui . . . she would probably call it the Maui Moon!). Writing poetry is an emotional outlet for her.
Other Works in this Issue: Nonfiction Transitions Inside OLLI Book Review: Cloudbreak by Heather Saunders Estes Vertical Divider
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