Veranda

AS I stood on the VERANDA of my home
Looking at the bougainvillea
Smelling the Jasmine

ALL those memories of my home
That is NO longer
ANGER then rage
As I face the truth of no return
Like Saturn
Seems so far away from me

As I stood on the Veranda
The scent of the cooking on the wood stove
Fills me those smells
That I shall never encounter

Looking out the Window near my Veranda
Saw the snakes dancing in their ritual
Pitiful to think that I shall never see again
ALL I can remember is the sense of home
That I can never have

AS I stood on my Veranda
Shells fell from the sky
AFRAID to go into the bunker
The dark, Cobras, Pythons and AK’s

As I STOOD on my Veranda
Made me ASK why are we the targets
Of such barbarity
Silence is ALL I could muster
About the master that has us on his leash
WITH his claws

As I stood on my Veranda
I saw the bullet holes being filled
Doors being replaced, fences being mended
Bricks being laid on top of those scattered ashes
Of THOSE that have departed

Then I awoke on my veranda….
(Mtl, Quebec, 1992)