À l’heure du tout à l’image et du buzz sans suite, «l’express» souhaite faire découvrir la plume de poètes, de chanteurs, d’écrivains et de tous ceux qui jettent leur âme sur le papier, et qui mettent en mots des réflexions profondes.

Daily human walked across the meadow she loved, the one with tall light green

grass at sunrise.

A little further flowed the river. She walked forward, sat by its bank

and kneeled forward.

Daily human looked at her reflection in the river,

noticed how she’d changed with the passing seasons.

She had grown so far away from her tree, had walked so far away from her roots,

the ones that had kept her grounded for so long.

The tree that kept her connected to what brought value and meaning to her life;

real, human interactions,

and now she was almost stranded,

so far away from connection.

“This definitely isn’t progression,” she thought to herself.

Once there’s no communication, there’s no connection.

I’ll have to fix that,

that’s all.

It was mid-winter,

the 23rd winter she’d experienced since birth.

“It’s time I pick up my leaves,” thought daily human to herself.

She picked up a rake not too far away from her, it reflected the light of the midday sun.

Sweat collected on her brows and trickling down her neck, daily human cautiously

came closer, carefully placing her foot one at a time, walking steadily towards her tree.

It sat quietly in the ground, its leaves swaying in the wind.

A strong hint of recognition arised, like two good friends meeting after too long.

Daily human came closer,

she firmly gripped the rake and began collecting her leaves into one big heap.

After a considerable amount of time and effort was put in, she wiped her hands

across her light yellow dress, planted her brown boots into the ground, and sighed

a quiet sigh of relief.

“Be patient with yourself,” said the Sun.

“Besides you’re evergreen.”

“You’re going to be so many different versions of yourself across your lifetime,

so many shades of green.”

Daily human touched the bark of her tree, she ran her fingers down till her roots,

roots that felt so familiar.

The Sun, now setting, said,

“Come back to your roots, the ones that make you you, and like no one else.

The ones that make you grow like a different coloured leaf, not like the others,

not like the rest of the herd of sheep.

Think of my friend the river, see how she flows.

I pray you find your purpose, and your own colours, like the river finds the sea.

That you come back to your colours,

the leaves of your tree.

Come back to your roots, young human, come back.

Like the river finds the sea.”

Bio

Rebecca D’Sousa

Née d’une mère mauricienne et d’un père indien au Koweït, elle a obtenu une licence d’arts visuels en histoire de l’art du Maharaja Sayajirao University of Baroda, au Gujarat, Inde, en 2021, et à la fin de l’année, elle est revenue à Maurice, où elle a travaillé en tant qu’enseignante dans deux écoles primaires. Depuis janvier 2023, elle occupe le poste de «Project Lead» à The Talent Factory. Elle vient de publier son livre, «89 Questions to the Moon», et anime des ateliers de poésie pour les enfants et adolescents en ce moment au Caudan Arts Centre.