Longing for Java
Mike Roysons
I'd made a prison of my heart
No gate was to be found.
The walls were thick, and high, and hard
To deaden every sound.
Inside of it a creature mad
With soft teeth, poison-filled.
A plaintive, luring voice it had,
A hunger never stilled.
One day I fed it, through my eyes,
With pictures of the past:
I showed it peaceful sunny skies
- Since long they're overcast -
With slender palms 'long rice fields green
And mountains hazy blue;
Some women washing in a stream,
As simple people do.
And flashing came the pang of pain
Of one all-crushing blow:
The beast broke out... and through my
veins
I felt sweet venom flow.
The mem'ries of a native land
Rose out of ocean's depth;
The brine moistened even my hand...
Or was it I, who wept?
45 ste jaargang - nummer 5 - november 2000 21
