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WHChaibun
- Allen McGill |
Haibun Selections
Paul T. Conneally, Editor
Loughborough, UK
Equinox
Allen McGill
San Miguel de Allende, MX
Javier, the boatman, thinks me loco.
But he has agreed
to leave Cozumel before sunup. He explains again that the off-shore coral is
dangerous.
I just smile.
And he shakes his head.
We climb down the
rocks to his boat, a kerosene lantern held high. The yellow flame illuminates
the rugged coastline with an eerie glow. We board the aged
craft, then paddle quietly until Javier decides it's safe to start the motor.
The reflecting face of the compass glints and glitters. Beyond the light's
reach, the thick surrounding darkness seems impenetrable.
sea wind
the wood hull creaks
with every swell
I doze for hours,
awakened by sudden silence, a vague light.
Javier
points...
Atop a cliff, the
temple of Tulum flushes pink in the rays streaking across the sea from the
horizon behind me.
Moments pass.
The dawn's
radiance spreads slowly outward, fusing to a soft yellow. The white stone
absorbs it as if warming itself with life.
I smile
It is as I'd dreamed it.
Javier looks
curiously at me, shrugs. Cautiously, we near the shore. He transfers my backpack
and motorbike to me, waves and backs away.
Tulum is mine.
I climb to the
temple, gaze out over the Caribbean. White sand tinted with
blue eases into shades and patterns of green, then purple, before disappearing
into the sun's glare. I stand mesmerized, until the roar of arriving buses tells
me that it's time to leave.
My time is
limited.
I motor north on a
blacktopped road that had been bulldozed through limestone and coral, leaving
only a narrow marsh between the road and the sea.
torrid morning
flamingos crammed
into a tiny pond
Leaving the main
road, I turn west onto a jungle path leading into the heart of the Yucatan. The
lush green corridor with sky for a ceiling is rutted, strewn with fallen palm
branches. My bike is lightweight, but I must dismount often to lift it across
stretches of impassable road--straining my energy, if not my enthusiasm.
The Yucatecan humidity is almost unbearable in the growing heat. Encountering a
group of laborers, I call, "Hola."
They glare at
me.
I move quickly on.
Time is running
short; it's hours before I reach the turnoff to the ancient city of Chichén
Itzá, home of the Mayan god Quetzalcoatl. The Great Plaza surrounding Kukulcan
pyramid is alive with visitors.
I've made it
just in time for the phenomenon...
spring equinox
the plumed serpent's shadow
descends
Barely breathing,
I watch in awed silence. The steps themselves appear to be in endless motion,
flowing downward from a brilliant sky. Slowly, after hours, the shadow fades.
The exhale of
breath is audible.
Irresistibly drawn
upward, I rush to climb the steep, narrow steps, hand over hand. At the summit,
I look down on the crowds in the Plaza, at the jungle spread out before me. Held
in a grip of excitement, I stand where once a world began. And ended. At the
equinox.
nearly twilight
the Mayan reliefs
recede in shadow
