The View From My Balcony
Updated: Sep 14
Behind the glass of the balcony door, I am baking
in the dense warmth of the day.
I sit in sunlight and dust with the flecks that shimmer
between seen and unseen.
Lit paths below disappear into shadowed alcoves and
birds hop from shade to shade beneath the greenery.
There are no clouds today but
I step out onto the little ledge, welcomed
by a thoughtless breeze.
The brassy light fades all plans like
a sentence I started but am unable to
remember- it was something important- something,
It’s dark now. The coolness retreats and cloying
humidity has come to rest on my skin.
Panic in a slow rise,
worry disturbed, an irritable sea
emerges in waves, four pronged thoughts and crumbling
stone skeleton demand stillness
dim and blurred awareness
bodies knocked down are sinking.
Shifting pain they wash up before me
the words gurgle and mangle in
my throat sinking like stones
I say their names, displaced.
Panic, dulling, pulls back. A dog
tired of chasing its own tail. Sweat clings to me
and my eyes are red sore, tired. I am still.
The sky is clear but quiet, unbragging, like it knows.
About the author: Kiara Naidoo also writes book reviews, read them here
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