THE SKITTISH DREAMER

THE SKITTISH DREAMER
              I
THE HUNGRY LAD
Behind him is his famished self
Ahead of him are food and poison
In identical covered bowls

               II
MY STORY
My heart has burdened
My poor tongue with a load
But my lips are too
Weak to convey it to it's destination

My tongue is wearied
My mouth is itchy---
But doubt has padlocked my lips

My heart is anxious
My mind is sleepless
But I cannot pipe this tune that
Once stained my flute with
Blood from my heart

Shall I sing again
The song that crowned me
With shame and filled my conscience
With mandibulates?

Shall I cross another river when
One once carried me into quicksand?

Shall I sow the seed
On a new land when on another
It did not grow?

Who knows?
Maybe this time it will grow
to yield lifelong fruits

Perhaps the boat shall
Carry me to the shore of pearls

Perhaps her heart is vibrating in wait
To dance to the tunes I shall pipe

Or maybe the song I shall sing
Is her fervent prayer
And her heart yearns to relieve
My tongue of the burden?

©Sarpong Kumankoma