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 |   Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
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Enga mellom Fjella  Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel"   Reader's Choice of Poems: "Sentinel" "Glice" "Tales told over scones and hot tea" "Speak soft my name" "Mauve Mavis" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" :"Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Doing and don'ting. A scene in 2nd person." "In a garden of roses, baby" "Footprints in the snow, in memory of Nyia Page" "Wheat penny. Gave in, started a forum." FACES     PLACES            Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
| We don't know where it comes from but it's there — an orange glow just out of sight, a reflection in the corner of the eye. A mirage. But orange, definitely orange. It's Thursday and today is an orange day and Jupiter pulls at our thoughts. Or... at least it pulls on mine. I'd live in Moonbase 8 on Europa if they ever let me out of this hellish prison. I suspect the orange glow comes from outside. I'd trade it for water and cooler surroundings. The day glows long and never ending. I sleep when I can. It doesn't matter. The song — what else to call it? — will announce the arrival of food. I don't ask and no one offers to tell me what the food actually is. It wouldn't matter if they tried. I don't speak the language here. I just hope it isn't recycled alien protein. I haven't seen one of my neighbors in a couple days. Of course, I'm an alien too. That glow... I tried to find its source once but a big blob stood in my way. I can read a smirk, a sneer, a threat. I've been on a few worlds. I know how to survive by becoming harmless and invisible. I just turned around and sauntered away slowly as if I hadn't noticed anything. Now the light is changing hue. Reddish then purple then violet then. Is it Friday already? Days matter little when one doesn't know when or how or whether one will be released — nor to where. It was a blue day when I woke up here — many days, months, years ago. My body has changed since then. It's so important to be flexible. Let the muscles, blood-flow, thoughts rearrange themselves and align to a new reality. To maintain the old is to lose the future by not living in the now. 'Now' is a kaleidoscope of shifting rainbows. Now the glow is definitely blue. Yes, it's Friday. Long ago I promised to become a better person. I traveled around my city, my region, my world — even visited that once fertile planet called Earth. But that was such a disappointment. So much hype, so many ruins, the locals so unfriendly. Mars was more sedate and Neptune a gas! Ah, gas. They must've used gas to capture me. I didn't smell it. And here I am. An alien surrounded by other aliens. Oh, good news! My neighbor just slid past. I'm used to the slime by now. He, she, they... seem to be harmless, a friendly sort. Probably just trying to survive like I am. Well. The sky is singing and it's time to eat. I'll continue writing to you later. You are always in my thoughts. Perhaps that's the light I cannot see, the one that keeps me going. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.83] (25.oktober.2022) Word count: 471 |
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