lush green fertile lush green fertilei'm an unseen presence moving through a green island on a sunny day. the mood of the day is marred by the maudlin preacher man with the ragged child tugging at his arm, as they make their way up the path to the cemetary on the cliff top. they are visiting his wife's grave side; she died young and pretty - since then his life has been grey, and he is unaffected by the emerald trees and grass glowing with fertility and health. he sits on the cliff near the grave, the cross lays a shadow across his face.
on the same island, i am now a child again; alone, sad - hating the other children for not accepting me. i stand amid the trees at the end of a foot ball field that slopes steeply downwards to the cliffs, to the sea. the arrogant yells of boys so confident, jeering, throwing all kinds of balls at me, footballs, cricket balls ... a crimson, shiny cricket ball like a hard giant cherry skims through the air almost hitting me; i can never catch it, and the jeers get louder.
i turn to my cat, cassy for solace, burying my hot tears in her soft furry body. at home the boys have eaten all the cakes, leaving me nothing, just a smear of black cherry from a danish. cassy licks it from my fingers with her sandpaper tongue. a girl comes to visit me on her bicycle and i am so happy. we are laughing when my mother comes home and screams neurotic insults at her. how embarrassing.
copyright 1994 lisa bode