Before the storm the air was dim and heavy with dust
when the first drops fell I could still see
the dull browns and tans of the low, tabled hills ahead
still follow, the pale stretch of green along the highway
and beyond, the red earth waiting
a dull and lingering anxiety over the land
the distant flickering,
broody and foreboding

So we raced along, wind-blown like all the rest
chasing the last of the day
while afternoon sunk early to a lingering twilight
and the windshield was strewn with diamonds and rubies



With the storm fell the night
darkness bounded the highway
streaks of lightening floodlight the vast plain
sudden and frightening reminders
that the world was still there but like another dimension now
only apparent when the fabric was rent

The present narrowed to a thin ribbon
bright with brake lights
the road not lined and ordered but a tumbling unmarked stream
public holiday makers in a rush to the Durban beaches
truckers with the last load of the week
all rushing
each destination an unasked question,
where?
when?


I was left to read the road through beacons now:

Red for the flare of brakes
as someone ahead encountered a truck
heavy as a rock in the free flowing stream.
For a moment, as I pass,
the headlights of the oncoming traffic only a meter away on one side
the wild flapping tarps covering the towering load on the other
the air thick with the gouts of road spume flung out by the spinning wheels
I feel the dice tossed moment vibrating around me.

Flashing white of high-beams
the universal signal of impatience
for the privileged travellers set high above the common road
I pull aside to make way
make clear the way


Together we flow down the long rapids
winding through Van Reenen’s Pass
wipers flicking rain and the spray from bald truck tires along the wet slick road
dropping almost 2000 meters off the high plateau
down off the Escarpment
down to hills of Natal below.
Down through the dark and the night.
Down and away.