When the news broke1 minute reading
When the news broke, we danced.
I danced beneath an alien sky.
Plants bloomed: I tasted guavas
firm and sharp upon my tongue.
Trees flung their roots into the air,
rivers reversed to flow uphill,
stars spun cartwheels, the moon
embraced the sun and clouds
kissed the mountain when the
news broke. Born in freedom, now
we owned our freedom. We clasped
our hands in prayer with the dead.
When the news broke, we sang.
I sang, softly, long forgotten songs.
Originally from Zimbabwe, Marian Christie now lives in Southeast England. When not reading or writing poetry, she looks at the stars, puzzles over the laws of physics, listens to birdsong and crochets gifts for her grandchildren.