Place of Wild Truth

By: Cynthia Rossi

When you have acquired a taste

For the leaves of pumpkins

And recognize the scent

Of rain before it falls

You are hooked

You will not be the same

As before you met

You have heeded

The rhythmic thrum of women

Pounding cassava into fine dust,

For sustenance at first light

You have heard the faint rustling

Of termites chewing

As their mounds grow high

Along the route to the river

You have listened to the drum beat

For a full moon or

A funeral or ritual

Or soccer match

Beyond the horizon

You long to hear your heartbeat

Drowned out by the sound

Of children laughing

Above you, you long to see

An endless sky punctured

By millions of stars that

Set your blood on fire

Your neighbor

Knows you by name

You are part of something shared

A collective consciousness

You will hunger for the

Love, joy, chaos,

Strength, pain,

Bravery, frustration,

Unbreakable bonds

Feeling lost, feeling found

Zambia is calling

You’ve eaten her mangoes

You thirst to be closer to Mother Earth

And her community

You feel the pull of

Majestic elephants

Tugging at the strings

Of your soul

You yearn for the taste of dust

As your spirit is yanked

By its essence

Back to a place of wild truth

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Cynthia Rossi is a biologist, cartographer, mother, explorer, and life-long learner following her passion for writing as a student in Bay Path University’s Master of Fine Arts Creative Nonfiction Program. As a cartographer working for a consortium of Native American tribes in the Pacific Northwest, she tells stories through maps that facilitate education through science, data, and oral histories. She currently lives in Poulsbo, WA, with her family and their 45-year-old turtle, which has been her home for the last 15 years. Cynthia has been published in Wilderness House Literary Review and the Wingless Dreamer.