Allan Chibisa

The trip to the deep was to wash
And drip off my weep and this ash
Trusted the sea and its sure salt
...

The three times we have been here
We laboured a distance from our joy
The road back here different each time.
...

My sweet resolve is not to glance
To see the tongues stuck out
At me? or the others' rout?
...

Does it matter to see the edge of it?
Twice up in the great lofty float?
Up high the schemes and plots
Of the lowly my tiny tots
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Mixed in the time but still heading
Told driver my destination is his
And my time? Who's paying for that?
...