Foreign Correspondent, Poetry by Ricky Hawthorne

Genre: Dark, Political, Society

Foreign Correspondent
by Ricky Hawthorne

“Look –see, here!” he cried
Beckoning me over like a geography teacher
And gestured with his trigger finger at the side of the mountain
“This” he grinned, “This is the life giver”

I peered down quizzically at the damp ground
Pulling sharply at a tuft of grass to see further
But it was tough and resilient, so much so
That I had to tear at it, ripping a fingernail in the process

“You see now” my guide spoke with derisory patience
“Yes, yes I do” yet it was only a trickle
Less than a pin prick scar in the sleeping hillside
But it remained unchecked as I forced a thumb over it

My guide smiled patronisingly and turned to
Point his silver arm at the valley below
Where the black S slithered toward open sea
Then murmured something, unheard, toward the horizon
Meandering away, unhurried,
Down the darkening hill

* * * * *
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