Self -portrait hour 19, text poetry prompt

There’s dead grass growing all over my body as i annihilate another day in the shower, the water

Drips off my chin into the rotis i make. I think of myself as a shop owner, a service provider to a variety of people in need. Paid in love and pain,

I wait at the doorstep as my son crosses over into his realm, not looking back. That is what i want.There is no difference in memory and reality as

I had cooled off my ambitions and dived into the tumultuous tornado of desire. It surged me up, bolstered me into a new galaxy of dreams while

I tasted the valour of petty nomadic lives. Now, i cool off in the summer breeze as my limbs soak in the vitamins of life, spread across writing  groups and magazines  while

My country lives in a tumultuous moment of despair. I no longer belong to a place. And yet i have my roots . Much like the trees in the rainforests- they jump up towards the sky, soaring, and yet, grounded by destiny and a pure play of chromosonal fate.

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