With the very first dune in sight;
He dreads the emotional deserts
He concocts himself all day long.
Despite the cold, eventful night,
My shamed heart feels so dry
With his callow and dull looks
And the weight of his cute calumnies.
With this man, I feel like a cactus
Trying to caress a fragile fish.
And as the moonless wind blows
From the oasis I realise that it’s not
A straw that breaks sincere threads;
It’s the strain of wrong words.
But when we reach some burnt tree
He kneels under scurrying clouds of guilt.
I grunt with desperate joy.
He never wanted me; he always wanted my ride.
Wish the dark could scare the ego off
His hooves and teach him the right balance
And how to respect my body and soul.
As we cross the last mound
The stars tell me that I’ve shown him
My back could be overloaded that’s why
He despised me and dribbled
The cud of his mistakes over my rough skin
To call himself perfect. Let’s hope God
Catches him when he falls from the
Hostile humps of life’s clamorous circus.
Meanwhile, the walk continues for Spirit Camel.
Amit Parmessur is a writer who resides in Mauritius.