I Wish To Return To The Land Of My Dreams Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

In this land is the real wealth I see,
It has objects of fantasy like me,
I look out into the sand and dig,
For objects old and objects new,
Buried in the sand that is shallow,
In which I stand with my hands in my pockets.

My pile I make of objects lovely,
Green like jade and yellow like the sunset,
This map on the wall I want right there,
In this house my dream has left me in,
Winking and dreaming, breathing and sighing.

Who said love began in the crux of my arm,
And walked into me through sinful breaths?
For I hold it now in this myth that is mine,
As alone I stand in my glorious solitude.

Love walks only when the feet are truly grounded,
In the soul that has no fear of tomorrow,
That challenges the times with its grabbing,
Taking one wink and throwing it right in there,
Into this eye that my desire has called home.

Who said wickedness only drew laughter from saints,
For they know how hard they tried to avoid it?
This dream takes me to the gilded chambers,
Where popes drink out of goblets of gold,
With me looking and swallowing like them,
Yet I am a sinner that has no shame about life.
For I came to live it no matter what,
And not just dream of the objects I pick.
Into a pile that the approaching man takes.

Daughter of poverty he calls me once again,
Tells me I cannot have the likes of these.
For in my pocket there is one quarter,
That can only go into a washing machine,
And bring out dirt after the wash,
Of what I wore when I worked the world,
And not the ball gowns needed here.

So I wake and wish I could go back,
To this land where I was for now I pray,
Please gods do not take away from me,
This life so good it shows my tomorrows
So wild, so rustic I fly with new wings,
Of butterflies from this land from afar,
For I was ready to meet life's end,
For it ended on a very good note.