She did not call me by name
Not by the name my mother called me
She called me by another name
A word
I have not heard before
Yet I knew it was me .
Will you come under the cashew tree beside the cemetery?
I know no cashew tree besides the cemetery
No I don't
Yet I will go.
Perhaps a revelation awaits me
Have they discovered the coloured cowrie ?
Or the specific herbs that will conjure
They perhaps have found the lost wonderer
I went after her
She stood still beneath the cashew
And spoke not a word
I like your poem, the atmosphere of mystery it creates and, above all, the mixed feelings of the protagonist and the ending: silence was the perfect word for her.
Nice and intriguing. Thanks for sharing