Stick these words in your hair
and take them to Polin and Manuai
my sons:
the ripe fruit falls and returns
But my sons, forgetful of me,
are like fruit borne by birds.
I see the sons of other women
returning. What is in their minds?
Let them keep the price of their labour
but their eyes are mine.
I have little breath left
to wait for them.
I am returning to childhood.
My stomach goes to my back,
my hands ore like broom sticks,
my legs can fit in the sand crab's hole .
I am dry like a carved image
only my head is God's.
Already I sway like a dry falling leaf
I see with my hands -
Oh tell Polin and Manuoi to hurry
and come to my death feast.
Kumalau Tawali (born 1947) Papua New Guinea
Source: Modern Poetry from Papua New Guinea, Volume I, Edited by Nigel Krauth and Elton Brash, Papua Pocket Poets, 1972
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