Where The Journey Of Life Really Goes Poem by Gert Strydom

My blue honda motorbike
with a full tank of fuel
is broken
and is being repaired
and while I count my money
I see that I have enough,
but for the last journey
of the week
and I wonder how
I am going to be able
to take that ride?

At the bus stop a car guard
is watching cars
and a black woman
that needs five rand for a ticket
and is dressed elegantly
in a red work suit,
gets the money from him
and he doesn’t even know her
or wants anything in return
and its weird seeing a near beggar
giving to the prosperous.

a Bus without any sign of destination
stops in front of me
and I wonder where
this bus is going?

I cannot stay standing
at the bus stop
and I know that I must travel
on this bus.

When I get aboard
the bus looks right
and there are other people,
that I know
that also rides on it.

I tell my destination
to the driver and pay
and he gives
a ticket to me.

When I ask to where
the bus is really going,
he wants to know
to where life’s journey really goes
and my money
is placed back in my hand.