at war by anuradha vijayakrishnan

Dip your head, she warns me, when you walk
and let the fireflies pass. The spark in their eyes
could be real fire; you could burn, your hair
could crackle and char. The smell
will be terrible and nothing will wash
it off, not even my tears or the best
soap we could buy in these parts.

She is full of warnings today, singing them
out because that way we will remember them
better. And her tunes buzz like brave
mosquitoes when we don't listen.

When we stumble the sand tastes of salt, the salt
of a sea now far receded. A sea brimming
with white waves and blue fish imagined
with perfect wings.
We are walking on uneven ground, pebbles
rolling angrily out of our way.
But we walk like giants
here, swinging our arms, shouldering the skies lightly.

And she goes off-key-humming how
red hibiscus when alone is dangerous, how
it kills with the purple poison given it by the gods
we think we worship.

She is full of warnings today
and we bend to let them pass, because we are ones
that wish no land and nobody any harm.

[i can't get enough of the phrase: 'we walk like giants.']

Per the author's request, this poem was published in Bare Root Review, Issue 4, Spring 2007. And besides wanting to cite my sources, what the author wants, the author gets.