We Are Not Who We Think We Are…
We are not who we think we are, Our lives slide slant as blood runs true, Lost estuaries from near and far, Debris of me, the silt of you. We are not what the wise have said, Our words the stolen scrawl of scribes, The alphabets of gods long dead, The coded scrolls of vanished tribes. We are not where we thought to be— Nor ever stood in Eden’s shade, Memory gilds the stricken tree, And decks with bloom a barren glade.
Mandalay, Mustique April 10, 2004
Poem Published in the following books: Island of Dreams