I walk in a tortoise pace,

I walk between the walls of haziness and knowledge.


My companion whom I carry has fallen asleep,

A rough loneliness for me on the way to Canaan.


The demons around me whisper incessantly,

My head is full of unending prayers.

‘God, would you please take charge?’


I rebel against patience for help

‘Is the prince of Persia too powerful for God?’


On the bend that leads to my heavenly utopia

I’m interviewed by possibilities of the future


What is the use of all these suffering?


I remain pregnantly mum.