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Extract from 'Sinarth' - Chapter One - War

  • Published by Karl Levy
  • Dec 20, 2015
  • 2 min read

Chapter 1 - Cambodia

Cambodge …

On those long endless days

When you may feel hollow,

With that strange desolate melancholy

For no apparent reason.

A feeling of loss that lingers,

So vividly,

It could be snatched

From the surrounding air.

Time slows,

While fleeting grasps of memory,

Of déjà vu,

Hover suspended,

Flickering in and out of reach.

Imagine for a moment,

That time

Was not rigid

But pliable,

Like a stopped clock,

And beginning to tick backwards,

This entrapment released.

And, free of time’s bonds,

One could float away,

To connect,

Into that aching

For lives long lost

Whose previous memories

Were just out of reach …

.Sunset at Angkor Wat

To race across mountain jungle canopies, hiding tigers, elephants and other wild beasts. To hear gibbons call with long cool whoops, echoing through valleys of ancient Khmer lives, flowing over pumice water streams, with carved rocks resting beneath. To grasp vine swings suspending clasps of monkeys, sweeping the earth clean and neat below and shadowing long-necked cranes with wings slowly beating the steaming air, plunging over vast cliffs with one’s heart … skipping a beat … onto faraway parched plains extending to infinity, while spirits dance on the fingertips of rice fields heavy with golden harvests.

A falling sun lengthened the afternoon distance, carving through the horizon and silhouetting excited wild children, running and diving, laughing and shouting, swinging on ragged vines. They tumbled into the lakes surrounding the crumbling temples carved from the jungles to reveal red pockmarked stones.

Long-legged lines of girls glided by on too-big bicycles with bells tinkling, gazing their beguiling half-moon smiles, turning their faces in unison. Red dust swirled onto the translucent green foliage, and emerald rice fields containing rows of scything peasants, splaying off through groves of sugar palms, reached ever upwards into the brilliant blue skies. Cool breezes filled with rain-scented air settled towards the approaching dusk, bringing home spirits to rest overnight in the fields of Earth’s ancestors.

Ankor Wat Moat near sunset

Burning down through the distant mountains with a final flash of green winking goodbye to the steaming jungles, the sun disappeared. It briefly blinded Sinarth and his best friend, Borem, perched high on the layers of warm stones forming the walls of the surrounding temples. The sun, ferocious in those final minutes of life, never faltered in its battle to stay above the horizon, a tinge of sadness filling the lands with a sense of lingering foreboding should it waver from its duty. Encroaching darkness, now victorious, descended, swiftly darkening the heavy stones.........................

Young Cambodian boy.


 
 
 

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