A daughter of the Nile
stands on the corner of
a soi. Purple umbrella in hand.
Rain pouring down.
Rows of artificial eyes, unblinking, unseeing
bathe buildings lining the posh avenue
in a halo of light.
Swift chariots appear at ornate gates
slowly opening, to usher in well appointed
children of Ham.
The daughter of the Nile, purple umbrella in hand,
is a wandering nomad. Among them.
Uniformed men standing in doorways
with umbrellas--ready,
standing in shadows
with weapons--ready,
watch her from a distance.
In the sun drenched fields of
Mesopotamia, the sons of Ham
once called her by name:
Prae, sing for us
Bai tong, dance for us
Cheu-chen, cook for us
Mai Ling, tend to us
Fasai, stay with us.
She would appear beside them.
A glowing apparition in a towering head wrap,
robes flowing behind her, like angel’s wings,
a sash of tinkling bells tied around her waist,
setting to music, her graceful movements.
A comely dark maiden laughing, smiling, teasing,
her almond-eyed brothers, their skin burnt bronze,
the color of scorched earth—offering them comfort and a tender touch.
A daughter of the Nile stands in the pelting rain,
purple umbrella in hand, seeking safe passage. Home.
In the land of the Hamites.
She puts her hand out, to hail a cab.
It speeds past, spraying dirty soi water
on her summer dress.
She raises the purple umbrella in the air. A proud flag.
More cabs speed past. She and the rain have become one. Her darkness and the dark rain falling from the sky.
She is invisible.
Her Hamite brothers do not remember her.
A daughter of the Nile, purple umbrella in hand, stands in
the pelting rain. Trembling inside.
She steps off the curb, into traffic. Angry horns blare.
She does not move.
A young Hamite man on a motorcycle, calls to her,
“Madame, where you go?”
“Telfar Towers,” she replies.
“I take you,” he says.
The daughter of the Nile, puts away her purple umbrella.
She climbs onto her Hamite brother’s motorcycle.
She is trembling. Through the wet summer dress.
“Taxi drivers, no good!” he says.
She clutches her brother tightly. One. One remembered her name.
The rain mixes with her tears. As they speed away.
