I want, I want 

I want to talk with flowers,

Sleep with grasses,

Hug the trees,

Dance with the bream,

Skedaddle with the dust devil –

The master of all whirls -

Fly with the birds

And travel with the wild herds

Through the glade,

To the wilderness -

That I am.

Instead I trudge,

And drudge all day long,

Doing a factotum travail,

Hardly noticed, no one

Appreciate and above all paid not well.

And yet I could not be left alone

To live without and feeling the pain.

That my life is being wasted for others to gain.

Necessity dictates that I do what I do,

Unless of course,

Face the ignominy of living on hand out,

If I am lucky enough to get a benevolent,

Or I was to mortally inflict a damage

Against myself – starve to death

Or commit the worst,

For which, you guessed it, in the end, I am to blame

And locked away for good

In an underground shelf,

No one will visit to dust

Or mourn the loss.

Copyright Haileselassie Girmay

14/1/2000