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.