Wolf and the Owl
Poetry, Lyrics, Translations
and Musings by Alex Etchart

Laugh in the Dark

By on Saturday 19th May, 2012

I tell another’s story
You needn’t know their name
I tell you she a woman
For tis relevant in this game
Twas the mid seventies
Of punk and rock and roll
She chose from home in holland
To delve down the rabbit hole
From Europe’s tourist temples
To the prayer-house in Iran
She hitchhiked a journey
Life resting on her thumb

The people they all told her
Not to travel, a woman? Alone?
To the savage lands, they whispered
Where the men still hold the throne
Yet the Eye of the Tiger did not
Waver in her eye
So she hitched from the land of the Aryans
To Morocco’s distant pride

While her friends and family muttered
Under their breath, so contrived
“She’ll be sought on every corner
Due to their customs they’re deprived
Their urges get the better of men
Tis soon she’ll be defiled”

Yet in her youth and audacity
She valiantly defied
She tasted the exotic fruits
Of daytime and of night
She wandered amongs the locals
Not content just “seeing the sights”

And once she’d had her fair share
And triumphantly survived
Learnt a life long of lessons
When to blossom, when to hide,
The turned her thoughts to home
And rode her thumb again
From the bazaars of the Sudan
To the Saudi hashish dens
Then the dervishes of Turkey
To the canals of Amsterdam
Not once had she to fend from
The advance of an unwelcome man

It was but ten miles from Utrecht
Where she’d lived her wholesome life
She stuck her thumb out one last time
To catch a homeward ride
Twas into the lorry and comfortably sat
When she spied the gleam of the knife

Her world did rush before her as she
Acknowledged the violent blade
“For me to travel so far and wide,
So close to home waylaid!?”
RIDICULOUS, it was, indeed,
So she contemplated quick
For how many innocent wayfarers
Had fallen for this trick?

But before she could employ her wit
From deep her gut did growl
Laughing, tears, a laughter fierce
Lurched at the demon fowl
In fear and disbelief the man
Held childish to his claw
When calm she announced “You can stop now,
Or else I’ll jump the door”
Then disarmed, incredulous,
By a visceral ancient art
The boy pulled over, and without a word
Our heroince did depart.

So the moral of the story, folks
Is twofold, you’ll agree,
For one: don’t judge another’s land
‘Fore tending your own seeds,
And second, never dare to doubt
The power of the laugh
A candlelight that warms the cave
When all else turns to dark.

Posted in: Poems

Blog owner, singing/strumming person, word speaker, community arts make-happen-er, eco-baby.


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