Inner Pastures

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across the seventh Atlantic
my ship sailed to the other shore
enroute Kilimanjaro’s Everest
these limbs crawled to its height
through the grainy Sahara dunes
not an oasis there was, alas

the answer to this, I questioned
what is it I do seek?

from my Shokoto down to Sokoto
for the Sultan’s sceptre, supine on my arched spine
like a magical wand to harry-potter my queers
eish, not yet uhuru for these chains
the aluta for emancipation continua
in transit to Cape Mainland from Robben Island
there, like a palm tree beside the Nile
her fibrous feet will stretch in an acquatic flourish
whose green hairs would never grey

hey, close your eyes before you look
a soundless voice whispered to my invisible ears

often, that which is so craved
might only exist in realms immaterial
beyond the camouflaging shadows of the penumbra
like an opaque umbrella eclipsing the sun in the umbra
some place untraversed, familiarly obscure
terraced by thoughts unthought

shine the torch of illumination
on the pathway of this hinterland
let me graze on its edibles to my fill
till my happiness like water, overflows
oozing sweet fragrance from broken box of alabaster
once caged like incacerated Genie in Aladin’s kettle

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