Allan Chibisa Poems

The trip to the deep was to wash
And drip off my weep and this ash
Trusted the sea and its sure salt
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The three times we have been here
We laboured a distance from our joy
The road back here different each time.
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My sweet resolve is not to glance
To see the tongues stuck out
At me? or the others' rout?
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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?
...