Antenatal (Tso Moriri)

By Edward Channer

The car shakes.

Rocks dot the road like appointments.

They will bruise the tyres and rip to the rim.

They will break us and bend us and leave us here

In parts decaying.

So we shudder.

As shocks in the road threaten like routine scans.

And cause metal and hope to flake and fall,

To be left in mountain sand or hospital waiting rooms.

Monuments to this struggle and this road and these rocks.

But then, quite suddenly, you are there, and we stand still.

The water rests

And the road’s roar is quiet. And you

Shine. And these rocks in the road are your drum roll.

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Edward lives in Oxfordshire, United Kingdom, and works in international development. He studied English at the Universities of Nottingham and Oxford and writes whenever he can.