Maps

Someone drew a line in the dirt with his finger,

Then another,and another,

Making magic.

And the line became his master.


Somewhere in the Congo,

A Luba initiate

Is led into the meeting house

To memorize the wall maps drawn by the elders

Depicting the guardian spirits’ houses

And the ancestral migratory paths.

Then he is shown the memory board,

And,studying its beads and cowrie shells,

Witnesses spirit capitals,

Migratory routes and chieftaincies.

And the elders sing their way round the board,

Celebrating the king and his journeys

And the sites of holy trees and lakes.


Suddenly, I am gone,

Leaving only

A bark painting or a sand sculpture

In the middle of Australia.