Red Moon

There she is rising, rising still.

There she is rising, rising still.

Life’s best moments capture us in unexpected waves. They sweep us up in a wild tide and deposit us on some foreign shore that didn’t exist, that shouldn’t exist, that exists amidst the madness of our world.

A red moon, a warm body, crashing Atlantic waves and star studded blackness become a memory etched, engraved, branded, scorched into a place where forever is completely and always possible. In this forever I ride the waves. They keep me from drowning.

And then, when I least expect it a red moon peeks above the horizon. It rises and rises and bleeds into the sky until all I see is a silvery yellow glow. Georgetown can’t be all that bad eh? How can it be when even here a red moon grabs my heart and tongue?

A red moon, the music of freedom, the promise of something better than the illusion of happiness…this is life, the real thing.

The moment I just know there's more to all this madness.

The moment I just know there’s more to all this madness.

Sharing a quick moment with you while I’m on the go.
Sara.

The Backlands of Craig Village

Floating along Craig trench about 5 mins from the Public Road.

Floating along Craig trench about 5 mins from the Public Road.

For decades the men and women of my family have traversed the Craig trench. It leads to the farmlands which have witnessed their lives and eaten up their strength.

The first time I met Craig trench, I sliced through the dark waters for pleasure, not work. To me, the snaking waterway led to adventure and not sustenance. But still, somehow, it came to mean as much to me as it did to generations of my relatives.

Yesterday, I revisited this place of mine. Only, the place and I have never been apart. Etched into mind, heart and soul, the beauty of this path still arrests my senses.

Inside the still surface of the water, I saw the perfection of the sky. Inside Craig trench I could look up better by looking down. By floating along this waterway, my relatives were gliding along the top of the world.

So it’s sad really when I consider the fact that only one of my mamoos (maternal uncles) still uses this path to access the land; to survive. What will become of it? And what will become of the generations which come after me? Will they know the land like we have known it?

I've been stalking this tree since I was 6 yrs old.

I’ve been stalking this tree since I was 6 yrs old.

Sharing a quick moment with you while I’m on the go.
Sara.