The Red Lady Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

I come every year
or so

rarely

the waters how they rise
and overflow
the banks


but I will come-
ever

I am the Spirit Soul
where restlessness has
made its home.

winter, winter hoar.


Last time I came
here was a deluge
in December
but Christmas... Christmas
was away...

I speak as I speak -
so my Soul speaks.

I tremble not as I speak
for the trembleness I
eject in this type of speech.
Hear me!
You have to hear me!
Ah! my hair I almost tear it!
Ho-ho-ho-ha-ha!