By Milo Manara
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Not Jonkannu. Not silenced Gumbay. O Tambu you come back but wha de use? You come back but wha de use? — 56- HERE AND THERE I knew I couldn't get there from here. Here was the edge from which time slipped, objects disappeared; the road slid from view, voices sheared off as the paths veered. Here was the dark, the damp, the steadfast dew, the blue shadows following the sun as far as here. Then stopping off to rest too long while the lightness left, for there. Where was there, then? Where the sky billowed.
For one so home-bound, who could have foreseen such a dramatic ending: Missing Person. Presumed Dead. Village fiddler, your playing was always out of tune. Your choice of instrument that creaking violin: What was it signalling? The ne'er-do-well? The one who failed to make the grade? The only one who stayed? Yet, your discordant life played out, I was amazed to find you hadn't passed through like a false note a broken string. You remained a vibrating source of conversation an endless susurration.
O — 43 — in for gold DISCOVERY Always like the futile march of crab-armies from mangrove fortress to the beach Always like the palm-fringe waiting to be breached Already I know, the moment you land I become islanded In the shadows of the rain forest I wait in submission Amidst the trembling of the leaves I practice hesitant discourse Always my impenetrable heart. —44 — THE BIRTH OF ISLANDS Fire at the core Necklace of ash, stone, coral. Islands emerge, submerge or shift with continental drift. Islands are not immortal.