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Poem

The chill of night crept in from the Rhizophora mangle - 
A tropical tree that gave me a shade from the perils of crime
I know nothing about,
Then I moved on to a barren area of landscape,
Where little precipitation occurs.
On top of a dune, I stood,
Letting the sand under my feet rise and sink my gloomy frame and soul,
But it never did.

For so long or an unknown time,
I have been patiently waiting, 
For a flawless tide of words to come,
And carry me,
To a place, far away from home and uncivilness,
Where there would be no grotesque nightmare of a haunting fear.

Perhaps, the rain should come as well,
And wash away all the pains of yesterday,
Usher in the paraphernalia of power and prosperity,
And thereafter give way, 
For the parting crimson glory of the ripening summer sun.

Pondering on the sheer weight of my bearable loneliness,
The shiver of the dusk passed fragrantly down the valley,
Then the silence grew stolid,
As I watched the new world buried in time and spoken words unfold,
That was on those nights,
Iniquity and injustice almost covered the earth.

Critics maintained that I went too far, 
Carrying some dreams with tired and broken wings,
Just because I have been penning for equality and social justice,
Indeed, it was a period when hopes were dim with an uncertain future,
Yet, I reacted with no reaction.

After many years of evaluation,
I realize how awful and terrible it is to live,
In a world devoid of the truth and light,
A society where the best brains are made slaves and perish in poverty,
Therefore, I stopped arguing, preaching morality and equity,
In the midst of rotten eggs with unchanging bad odor,

I left my heart, soul and pen in the waves of words unspoken.

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