I sit
I stare
I try to rise
I hesitate
Though feebly I finally manage.
I stick my right foot out
It recoils shyly,
Drawing a curse and a swear
That I have no strength to utter
I push the left forward:
Creaking, grumbling it goes
A step I manage to take at last.
I wish I had not stepped out at all.
It’s dark,
It seems cold,
I wish I had borrowed a coat,
And at least a torch
That I would have shone.
The road ahead seems long,
I see a mountain just on the horizon
My feet are bruised thanks to the potholes
And the slip down that damn valley
Has left my back in bad shape.
But why didn’t I choose to stay?
So the mountain and unseen valleys
This time I can afford to miss.
I stumble,
I fall,
But up to my feet struggle
I hesitate,
I look back
The desire to get back
To familiar ground grips my heart.
But the desire to see what’s ahead this counteracts.
May be,
Just behind the mountain,
That impedes my vision;
May be,
Just beyond that valley;
May be,
After this potholed stretch
Is a smooth stretch spurs me on
The smooth stretch that would help me get
To the Promised Land I guess

by Ibrahim Bidu

Comments (5)

Danger Will Robinson! Danger! Your eternal soul! Another good write! Glad to see your batteries are holding up. -chuck
this piece brings to mind a few robots who could use a good defragging and some well-placed registry edits. Jake
I think you have this pretty well right Prof. I am reminded though of some who aren't quite robotic. You got your Holy Rollers and they're never going to build a robot to do that stuff. You got your Benny Hin who is slapping people on the forehead, knocking them down and shaking on the floor getting healed of all the shit that don't ail you. The Catholics, up and down, kneeling and standing, standing and kneeling, making you wish you gave up smoking. The Hari Krishna playing tamborine man with one hand and the other looking for loose change. And I'm never going to stick my hands in a pile of snakes and drink poison. Probably others, but what the hey. Could be the robot is a good idea.
It felt more like a funny and well-written anecdote rather than a poem, until the end when it slipped over into poetry. How do you do that? Linda
I wonder how happy some of them really are...nice PoHo really nice :)