My plait lies hot and heavy on my back
As I bend my head to the book
And pick up the pen.
Outside the African sun blares
Between the arched pillars of the cloister.
In the library
The white veil of the nun
Cools the silent air
As we work.
Then
Stillness brought peace.
Now
In the different quiet
That pools undisturbed
In this empty house
Where I sit and write
I remember that peace.
And,
Sometimes,
I still feel it.
