with purpose

i think there are banana leaves

in my blood stream,

they float like makeshift canoes

into my arteries

and block the hope

the west has tricked me

into thinking I have earned.

i think i have corn husks

in my lungs

they fan the flames

of my discontentment

and they incite

a quiet violence in my throat.

lord, i think i was born screaming

in the jungle

and now I am choking

in the city

– sheila c

13 thoughts on “with purpose

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