When Truth Screams Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

I was often told not to disturb rocks
and of course no stone
was ever left alone.

When not yet a teenager
every rock in my path
in the North African desert

met its fate under my lifting strength.
No lizard or white or black scorpion
would stop my search

for mysteries hidden beneath.
Even when wading ankle deep
in what then were rivers to me

I lifted flat shingles and looked
for mysteries underneath.
It often required momentary waiting

for the disturbed mud to clear
and for the truth to appear
in the scooting shape of a crawdad

I pinched with forefingers
quickly learning that truth could hurt
when the crayfish pinchers

would squeeze a squeal out of me.
Those were the times
when beasts and stones spoke to me.