Beneath the yam tree

sat the yam man

quaking in sorrow

his body shaking

in convulsive spasms

his heart crying out for love

deep love that heals

that holds a hope of a life

an escape from the words of hate

hurled like stones against a tin roof

crashing loudly against the solace of the self

the yam tree smiled bending down whispered

of how she stood against the tall banyans, the coconuts

but always held her own against the blue sky and the storms

a green leaf bent and whispered softly into his ears

‘anchor in self, be thy own lover and gently sway in the breeze of life’

a waft of heavenly iridiscence brushed against his nostrils

‘he hugged the tree trunk, ‘honey, I …… ‘