Two chairs face one another
one carries a gram of hope
but oftentimes it is sorrowful.
Some days the burden is so heavy
there’s wonder if the chair can cope.
But each week it withstands
cushions stained with anxiety
its wicker enmeshed with pain
in absence, in presence, it stands.
The space between both chairs is agile
distance mingling with intimacy
comfort stung by angry challenges
being seen and hiding, doubting itself
there’s a lot to hold for a space so fragile.
Gestures as small as a sigh
or perhaps a knowing look
feel so immense –
we need to take a breath.
The exhale lifts the chairs into a high
only to be brought low by tears of strife
the painful inhale stirred by a smile.
Is it too much to bear
too much to take in
this relentless gift called Life?
The process cannily holds the power
it’s futile to predict what’ll come next
leaving no other option than to trust
in the rhythm these two chairs share
for it is the rhythm of The Caravan.
By Amina Adede