Читать книгу RENDANG - Will Harris - Страница 9

Mother Country

The shades open for landing,

I see the pandan-leafed

interior expanding

towards the edge of a relieved

horizon. Down along

the banks of the Ciliwung

are slums I had forgotten,

the river like a loosely

sutured wound. As we begin

our descent into the black

smog of an emerging

power, I make out the tin

shacks, the stalls selling juices,

the red-tiled colonial

barracks, the new mall.

It is raining profusely.

After years of her urging

me to go, me holding back,

I have no more excuses.