Poem: Weave

Weave.

It’s what they say to do.

In Guyana, we weave.

Weave between the buildings,

between the social constructs,

between the crowds.

We weave,

between the gutters or the ditches,

between the sidewalks or the side of the road,

between the vacant lots or tumbling homes.

In Guyana, you weave.

Weave.

Between the Indos and the Afros,

between the East Indians and the Chinese–

I hear they are taking over.

We weave through the capital

and the interior,

over the mountain ranges

and perhaps the savannahs.

Weave down the borders

of Suriname and Venezuela,

of Brazil and the Atlantic.

We weave through the accent,

opening our ears and our mouths

in bewilderment.

How we didn’t know we’d have to weave.

About mattylife

"And no one is a stranger...for long."
This entry was posted in Guyana, South America and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Poem: Weave

  1. Larry says:

    We all weave, whether we know it or not.

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