For thirty years long I fled my fears
Until I was wax soft and white like moon
The fugitive only his own voice hears
His lips trembling swell the empty spoon
Shattering dusty teeth. O the exile
Has returned, now he is out of style.
I brought back no Oshawi gold
No meteorite tail in alphabet soup
Trailing my name, defining soul
As a horse broken with lariat and loop
And climbed the guango tree first
Trying to remember where I put my thirst.
Long love ago, long dream broken
Mother died and the distance in silence
Was truth in pain so plainly spoken
For only birth and death has no pretence
I love my country and it does not care
The eyes of clouds follow me and stare.
Categories:
guango, travel, love,
Form: Verse
Before the drought
I loved this land
From North to South
And every sand
The mountains high
The serried trees
The azure sky
And fragrant breeze
Poincianna flame
Lime Kiln burning
The children's game
Maypole turning
And morning sport
Sweet pots boiling
Ships in the port
Fish net drawing
I love canoes beached
On littered sand
The sermons preached
By mother's hand
The flowers do fade
And grass dries now
So there's no shade
From guango bough
But the rains again
Will swell the breast
And milk staunch pain
And hope finds rest
I wait for the kiss
Of morning come
Sweet tongue of mist
Love is our sum.
Categories:
guango, seasons, uplifting, morning,
Form: Verse