I always thought of the road. Whenever I think of the road now, I immediately go back home and see the brick-red dust, burning bright like copper in the midday sun. I see the dip into the makeshift gutters, and the shallow furrows and deep gullies created by the incessant pounding of the tropical rain, slowly chipping away at the path, a patient evil tapping insistently at the essential hinges of mankind. I see the rough bark of the palm trees rising high on either side of the road, ever so inviting. Their leaves give shade on the journey, their fruit gives refreshment. I look across, as far as my sight allows and I see the dip, like a waterfall, a hungry mouth, a giant beast. I understand why it was called the famished road. The road is always hungry, the road devours cars, families, goods, even the forest, but it is never satisfied. It does not roam the earth, but waits for those that come to it. I fear the path, but I do not stray from it. The road will take me, I cradle my hope and soul under the palm fronds shade and walk on. Walk with me, and I shall not think of where the path shall take us, and maybe I will endure this.
Posted on: Sat, 06 Dec 2014 16:23:44 +0000
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