content warnings
references to war and unrest
[227 words]
The smoke of the fire didn’t reach the garden
the orange golden flames only teased our palm trees, I wasn’t scared
my parents still the effortless rulers of our simple cement house
in the West-African village my brother – the gentle historian –
designed maps of even more exotic continents, drew up a chart
for the waves, named all of our trees
him, too, the ruler of his world
Our life without clocks, the potholes
on the roads made every trip unbearably long
the white van stuck on the riverbank again, this time
becoming part of the baptismal service
church members in their flowing robes surrounded us with hymns
waiting for my father to put on his collar
Lead me to the Waters
Through the side mirror I watched
eating my oats with powdered milk and water, listening to my brother
recite his encyclopedia of world history
my mother with the other women in their cotton dresses
splashed with planets of bold colors
I climb out to sit on the steps of the bus
watching my dad place his large warm hands on their brown foreheads
and lower them into the water
washing away the dust from the road and the confusion of sin
a woman grabbed my mother’s hand
the whisper of wars from my brother
my naked feet dangling, unconcerned
if my world was here or there
Freddi Gralle is a poet from Berlin, Germany, who grew up bilingual on the mission field in Sierra Leone. She works as a screenwriter, but didn’t find her voice until I leaving the church and starting stand-up comedy. Making people laugh is a blessing, but when she gets a little melancholy and starts overthinking her struggles with dating and mediation apps, she often opts for poetry.
