borderless

Take me back to a time
Before borders separated men.
Before flags proclaiming nationhood
Fluttered against a borderless sky.

Take me back to those moments
When love was free to exchange
And humans held on to the ability to wonder
And smile at differences between them.

Take me back to the world
That once was one.
Where it didn’t matter how rice was cooked
Or meat was had
Or jewels worn
When all that mattered
Was the gratitude of being alive.

Take me back to the terrain
Where the earth still smelled like herself
When the sky and seas were still azure
And didn’t need the illusion of perfection,
For they were already so.

Take me back in time
Where women knew their might
Without having to proclaim so
Where children grew alongside the wild
Without knowing fear or despair.

Turn back time
Will you please,
For I do not understand
Why we must draw lines between us
When all we have is just one earth
For all of us to share.

lessons from a broken plank

she sits upon a broken plank,
cracked from the weight of people
and the sun, the winds and the rain.
beneath it flows a turgid sewer,
greyed with the dirty linen
of the city.

upon her lap lies an infant
and behind her an older dame
who picks nits from the lady’s hair
whilst running a commentary
on the lives of their neighbours,
tv soaps and their men.

i wind down the windows of
my air conditioned car to watch
this curious sight
of huddled thatches. homes.
and the lives they hold within.
but my conditioned nostrils
suffocate.
my oesophagus retches
at the smells.

between the glass and me
lies this unknown world
and i shudder at their misery.
then i look.
i look and see
that infant smile.
and the lady plant upon its cheek,
a wet kiss.

this must be happiness, i think.

and all this time,
i looked for it
in my wallet.