Kingston Poem by Eila Mahima Jaipaul

wandering across
this near winter landscape
I have no direction
but know where I want to be
walking in my waking haze
cold and alone
I half wish the rain would
drown me
or the wind
strip me
as if a colored leaf.
but like my nearly dead counterparts
I cling with energy
holding fast to my
recently embodied dream.
the recollection
keeps me company
on my wet walk
along this gray river
It is all that remains.