Beaton Galafa is a Malawian writer. He currently lives in Jinhua, China where he is studying for a Master’s in Comparative Education at Zhejiang Normal University. His work has appeared in literary magazines, journals, and books such as Betrayal, The Seasons, The Wagon Magazine, The Bombay Review, Bhashabandhan Literary Review, Kalahari Review, The Maynard, Atlas and Alice, South85 Journal, The Voices Project, Birds Piled Loosely and Nthanda Review.   

 

In Air

 

Let the bird fly

beyond clouds and the sun

that hang

loosely

in

air

 

far

and high

 

to places where thunders rest in summer.

So that when it tumbles to earth

its nose must dive into sands and whispers of rivers

its wreckage twined with bones and skulls of seas

for the fish and sea monsters to drink from its veins

and forever be the red strip of sea which the sun

bounces off.

 

~

 

Flow of Life                  

                 

Sometimes we underrate ourselves

when mudslides revolt in our streets

wiping us off

the sun’s face

in our hundreds

Crumbling

hubs

of

civilization

Crawling, creeping, sweeping us clean

burying us

under

without rituals, without tears, without trial

To be trampled by the Creator

as

He

descends

After horns announce the apocalypse.

In the distant east screams howl in the winds

As rivers burst in streets and homes

To carry with them logs, bodies, temples

Beyond seas and rivers of the mountain

Where

Scattered

like                  mustard seed

not even search teams will find them:

Sacred killings for the rain god

Drizzling along with hail and thunder.

 

~

 

Insatiable Well

 

This place is void

There was a well once

Where dust crams the seat

It rested from morning till night

Giving life to thirsty passersby

But death came knocking one dark night

The rest you will read on terrazzo at the grave.