One New Year’s morning

Art - Angel Dominguez, 
from The Girl Who Wrote Her Own Fairytale,
by DeNoya and Dominguez

One New Year’s morning 
in Zanzibar,
I met an odd woman 
at the Old Bazaar,
amid all the stalls
and the trading fray
and the discombobulating disarray. 

She sat among bags and sacks
of all styles
and seemed to have been there 
for quite a while.
“You’re finally here!”
she laughed as I passed,
“I had my doubts, but you found me at last.” 

“Sorry?” I replied,
“Do I know you?”
“Not yet,” she said,
“but you’re ready to.
I’ve been everywhere you’ve ever been, 
but you’ve passed me right by 
till today, my friend.” 

I was pretty keen
to leave that scene,
as she seemed to me 
to be out of her tree,
so I sidestepped, “I’d love to talk,
but I’m in a hurry 
and I really oughta walk. 

“I’ve heard there’s a man here
who’ll sell me a map
to get where I’m goin’
as fast as I can.”
“My bags,” 
she asked like she didn’t hear,
“Help me move them from here to there?” 

I asked, “What’s in ‘em.”
Her answer was hazy,
“Could be the trauma 
from younger days,
or every tale that’s yet to be told,
or maybe my winter clothes, 
who knows?” 

I very much wanted 
to be on my way;
with hindsight I find it
a trial to explain,
but something compelled me
to help her that day,
so I hefted her baggage across the lane. 

When settled again, she said, 
“You’re quite kind
to help an old crone  
you don’t recognize,
and without any ken 
of a reason why
that has anything to do with you, says I. 

“Have my old compass 
as your reward,
it might be useful
as you journey onward.
Pick a direction and 
see where you get!
And one last thing you must never forget…” 

Just then the players
in the New Year’s parade
flooded into the market
and swept me away!
As the fanfare passed,
I made my way back,
but the woman was gone, along with her sacks. 

Standing there addled
and flabbergasted,
I guessed for a moment 
I might’ve imagined her.
But there it was, 
her compass in hand,
a message engraved in brass on the back… 

                      All directions 
                     are connected
                       round about
                  the compass rose.
                  May you find that
                   by your kindness
               everywhere you roam
                      you’re home. 

Lee DeNoya, Atlanta - New Years 2022