We will celebrate two years this autumn so
I eat moringa seeds with joy and hope. To
the job that swallows then hurls me out at night
five days a week, makes me forget how light
headed I once was, dreaming awake. Now: tax,
merger, pension, gratuity, punctuality; pacts
reneged on, life slaps my skin as a sandy wind
would. No one really asks to be ordinary, as sin.
It just happens, like shit.
The seeds are sweet and are an unexpected gift
from a client who makes a fraction of the day lift.
Home makes the daily smudge of life worthwhile
as the companion who cooks, loves, snores, wins my smile.I find my peace in this piece of peace of mind.