A Stranger Passing

A stranger passing Gail Gilbride A stranger passing would never notice the colour of fynbos and wild raw woundedness of grief foaming in a back corner. By Sandra Hill Curled up hugging my body huge well of grief. The bubble protects me with its golden light. Swirling body of pain heart-wrenching wrongs unspeakable accusations from a feverish jealous godless mind. A stranger passing would never notice my escape. The shy deer treads softly. Gentle eyes make careful contact as I turn swiftly follow him my gipsy skirt flimsy my body firm intact. In nature untamed colours glisten the colour of fynbos. Words fly in the ether still find their way to my ears thrust the unspeakable upon me wielding evil power against me wounding fatally. Every fibre rebels. I reach up snatch those words try to assuage the wild raw woundedness of grief. And even here where the shy deer treads and all is snow covered pristine innocent-seeming I wait. I know they will find me. There is no escape when a veneer of civilization covers barbaric cruel hearts foaming in a back corner.