I can still hear the sound of waves crashing in my dreams

Strange faces and eyes

The colours and smiles

I learned to walk and then to run

Remarkably fast for a boy my age

Not long released from the comfortable cage

Vixen and the rifle on his knee

Or the babysitter who kidnapped me so the whole tribe could see

And oh how they adored me

White haired white skinned

And not yet sinned

I couldn’t speak to say a word

How I felt or what I wanted

And I will always be left haunted

Distant and aloof

As waves crash on an African beach.



~ G McK

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