dimgray

Sorrowoods 31.8.2024

Out of the belly of the swamp black fingers strained to jab the blue heavens. That was how the locals described Sorrowoods. It was a place of abandoned babies and unwanted baggages, so they said. I once cycled through it. The air was still and cold and mists wafted upwards from charred trunk of mangroves as if they once burned in a fiery battle of ancient days. My Ahma warned me to stay away from this place: “The ghosts will catch you and bury you!” Every now and then, blue and red flashes illuminated up an otherwise grey tree line behind which were buried all the shame of desperate men and women. Hoard of reporters would beam blinding white flashes onto mud to unravel secrets of deeds done in the darkness where an occassional bat would be the only witness. The next day, the world would wake to know Sorrowoods again.