Do we trod the famished road with the single hope of an oasis at the end?
The desert sands shall give no mercy to a man of faith
Let us go then from the lands we baptised with pain
Let us, like Ulysses, set sail like the Vikings To mete and dole unequal laws upon a savage race.
Do we weep for the things unseen?
Tell me, my kinsman, how it feels to bring goodluck?
Even when ants have ecstatically ravaged your iron fence.
Tell me how it feels to drink from an oasis
In the patched mind of a thirsty traveller.
Do we weep for the roads not taken?
We saw the Kiama bridge and that which goes to Yenogoa
Do we require the gods to tell us where to go?
The soothsayers are out of business now
