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Rated: E · Other · Biographical · #2018712
Written when I was living and teaching English in The Gambia.

They are on a journey
To build a better world
I say I will come

I say, I will help.

Dust. It chokes me.
Thick, or is it thin?
It is another entity entirely,
Corrupting my thoughts
Filling my gasping throat..

So hot,
It burns my gentle soles.
Disingenuous silk;
Soft like a flame
Or an urtica.

I'm crawling now
My lily limbs, filthy
Well spoken breath, rasps
Trying to ride my knowledge like a broken bicycle

But they,
Their way is clear
Straight backed, indestructible,
Dirt hidden by ebony,
Voices, tuneless, but clear; true.

I call them back, my broken voice
Pleading my superior theology
I question our direction, how can they know?
They say they trust their feet

Soon, they are long gone
And now, I am on my knees, to the god I don't believe in
Precious energy wasted on my words
My horizon, blotched by unanswered questions.
I thought I would show them the way
But they follow a map I cannot read
And they have a guide who isn't me
And I am the one who is lost.

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