The snipers

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.



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