Mother moves the salt jar
She moves it every morning
That sound is how I know it is morning
Forty days I lay there
Of the first fortnight I have no memory
They told me my father carried me home on his back
I have no memory of that either
The shoulder will not heal
On rainy days the bone cries
Mother boils cloth every day
And the steam fills the room
They say I came back alive
That is what the village says
And it is true that I came back alive
But I do not know what it is that came back
There is something inside my coat
I do not know what it is
A bundle of soaked paper
Full of letters, and I cannot read
If she had told me to throw it away I would have
She did not
She said keep it
That is all I have done
It was the day the fighting ended
A woman called me over from behind the tents
A woman who knew her letters
The one who wrote down the names of the dying
She had written on my arm too
I did not know then what it meant
She took something out of her coat
Wrapped in oiled cloth and wrapped again in hemp
Hold this for me
I am forty-four and you are twenty
That is all it is
Do not ask what it is
If you know, it gets heavy
I asked why me
And she answered
Because it looks like you will live a long time
That sentence still frightens me
There is something inside my coat
I do not know what it is
A bundle of soaked paper
Full of letters, and I cannot read
If I could read I would have read it
And I don't know what I would have done then
Because I could not read, I kept it
I don't know if that is luck
Mother scoops salt in the kitchen
It is a big jar, up to her shoulder
All winter we lived on what was inside it
Salt does not spoil
And what is inside salt does not spoil either
On the day she went to market
I went into the kitchen
One hand still cannot take any weight
I went in anyway
I took out half the salt
I laid the oiled cloth underneath
I covered it with the salt again
I closed the lid
I put the jar back where it stood
The position was slightly off
It took me a long while to set it straight
Fire burns
Salt preserves
I am not iron and I am not letters
I am just here
Mother moves the jar every morning
And listening to that sound I know
It is still there
It is still there
If someone asks one day
I can take it out then
If nobody ever asks
It can just stay there