Sorrowing
David Antrobus Posted on Friday, December 12, 2014 at 3:32PM 
Dusk comes with a slow dimming, as if the world's sorrowing.
The people move delicately, their motions precise and penumbral, campfire noises distinct. The world seems formed from grainy points that swirl like quenched lightning bugs. The cough of a burro. A deterrent growl. Cast iron pots. The reek of smoke. Human warmth.
The girl, forgotten a moment, rests on a low wall on the edge of the settlement, waiting for the light to leave the violent rim of the sky. Through the trees, the squat sun spasms and the girl gazes at faraway realms, the serried distant hills like hunched triassic beasts.
Always from new aspects she has craved and surmised great wondrous lands, and now another lies above the horizon, canted over this very world, our sunset cumulus their doomed archipelagos in a bloodsea.
She wonders if they'll come for her. Her people. If they even remember. Her people of phosphorescence in this darkling land. Mayhap their recall is receded into fable, or fashioned into yearning auguries. Unrequited in this life.
A rough hand clasps her arm, drags her campward, and hope rolls back into the sultry vaults of her heart like eyes into a blinded head.
One of these nights, the coyote people will carry the day in this place of wolves, she no longer thinks.
Reader Comments (2)
I can feel the longing and the sadness of lost hope. Such vivid images.
Yvonne, I truly appreciate you taking the time to not only read but comment. It really does help encourage more writing whenever anyone goes this extra yard.