Life is full of snipers
waiting around the corner.
Not long before one fires.
The sweat on my brow
is their anticipation of my turn –
they pull the trigger when they see my lip curl.
God forbid it turns into a smile.
Life is the dinghy I am on board.
I sway in disillusioned perception
of time and home,
of trial and hope.
I wait –
for another wave to drench me.
And when the sun dries it off,
it is dry salt that will mark the journey
on my skin, with wrinkles I am left;
they run deep like the currents that sway me.
With weakness I am swept, only momentarily.
A trail of froth disappears behind me.
It leaves the path I travelled smooth,
it soothes my thoughts before my eyes adjust
to the fog that cloaks the future. What lies behind it?
In the face of reality,
I am anyways blindfolded.
Blind and fooled.
It is in this snap moment of shining clarity
that my lip will curl. God forbid it turns into
the summer within. What a disparity –
it fuels me. Discomfort; the one I vow to.
God forbid. What God? The snipers.