Apotheosis of the Dive Coast
— Jim McKeon —
A few miles south along that coast,
the ruins of an old Arab settlement seem strange,
alternating calm and submerged disquiet.
Bright late afternoon light outline the smooth trunks
and buttress roots of huge Mugandi trees,
many six feet or more in diameter, the thin tree bark
welted by the paths of beetles, green canopies
overhanging the few remaining standing walls,
an opening here or there revealing where a door
or window stood.
Dead leaves and flowers litter scented paths:
bay leaf, cinnamon and clove, hibiscus, sandalwood
and pepper.
Stillness in the air, and then, birdcall.
The call echoing down into this time,
and stillness once again.
And memory!
Under all else, memory…
The old settlement retains some suggestion
of the slow ordered pace of Arab life:
the rich colors, shapes of everyday objects,
carved beds, doors and chairs, carpets
ivory and silver still hide within these walls,
walls that time tumbles. I feel these fragments
sinking down into their own.
I see it now,
that coast shining in the Sun,
slip away, the scalloped shore, reef fringed,
now lengthening, the rivers running down
through forests to mangrove margins falling away,
ever more of the shining face of Sea
included within the rapidly retreating, expanding
circle of horizon, opening around that measured time,
time that was part of coast and part of me
as, in my mind, I now rise
and leave it all
behind…
