Back on the scene with ambition and a
mission to undo all the wrongs I did
with a swift pen stroke, a steady hand, a
mind creaking with a vision unblinded:
The past was like a windy beach's sand:
blindingly cloying, clogging up organs
and meridians un-primed by the hand
of colonial cartographers – poor men!
They sliced up the earth with adhesive darts,
annexing and dividing man from man,
and man from earth, and heaven from the hearts
of darker types tinged with equatorial tan:
The vengeance is ours, though it lies in wait
of  true understandings of life and fate.