I did not choose my presence
by Stella Sisanda Qishi
To be good enough today
And be thrown in the desolate tomorrow.
I did not choose this fragile structure
To be intimidated by mere breezes
Bending this way and that, involuntarily.
I did not choose this outdoors lifestyle
Being spanked by easterlies and branded by eternal rains.
I did not choose to be overexposed
To blistering suns and colds and howling gales
Though poets find my struggle metaphoric.
I did not choose to grow on man’s footpaths
And cry unheard under their feet
Set here and there in a drunken blunder.
I long for the day when I’d hear myself say
‘I owe my success to my travails’
But that day seems to be brushing against my skin,
Sliding away despite my impotent attempts.
I only dream of leaning against a window pane
And view the city lights at night,
Of course that’s ordinary to you
But to me it’s a fantasy
For my height or lack of it
Forbids me from seeing over distant roofs
The heave of the maddened waves
And the magnificent sunset.