Fox Footprints/Bali

by Elizabeth Jane Coatsworth

Bali

In a yellow sea lies Bali, sinister and mystic.From the throats of her volcanoes the steam rises in thick cloudsSpreading desolation and hiding the ancient gods.The jungle lies about the villages like heavy green waterLapping the shoals of the terraces,But the templesRoof above roofThrust their way up into the open air.Their gateways are carved with the figures of uncouth and grinning deitiesPinnacles of terror.Old gods of stone lie on the hillsides, their open mouths outlined against the sky,Listening to the narrow water falling beside themWhere the women fill their jars in the lush coolness of evening.In the rice terraces one might dream that the sky lay shattered,With the young shoots for stars.  The pink flamingoes stand on the banksAnd the palm trees grow above themLike visions,Like minarets,Thin and swaying as dancing girls in elaborate headdresses.

Wave on wave in fluid brilliance. The copper sea breaks against the cliffs.Wave on wave it strikes the drums of the rocks And sends the sound throbbing along the sky.