Khartoum Heartbreak 9_They didn't come

the miracle workers didnt come
they hid behind distance and unsaid ideas believing in my arrogance
they felt sorry for me, not happy for me
they talked - in the concavities of the night and between seconds of the day how they knew they were not coming - whispering how tired they were
weighing out options of dissapointing me
THAT was not tiring
Doors opened for them, i opened them
eyes respected them, I respected them
my life wanted to be like them - I wanted to be like them
my heart beat for them - I want them to be happy always - always
They remind me of old traditional love and respect,belief and miraculous strength
so I waited for them to come t hrough the door and make me ....worthwhile
but....
they were on the other side of town intervening at the fibres of my care - for they wanted to be untied
digging potholes of years of hard work all collected in these few hours - I wanted to c them
I got so angry - what is wrong? with me, the world
because there is nothing wrong with them
miracle workers chose not to be mine
thinking of me as labours relative - nothing more , maybe less
miracle workers didnt come because its easy for them to forget me, they have forgotten me,
only ridicule me

I will always remember them
I will always stride to be like them
always love them

but I have to find a new paradigm of thinnking


In this african wave of anger and rush to eat, and to be the first
to ruin something so easily by lack of respect and a bit of care
I find that the breath of the streets is not free, I have to force air through
the people do not smile at me so free, I have to indulge in their dehydrated connection
the houses do not welcome me out of goodness and natures blood, but out of simple ruules

I wonder if i live forever here amongst the most beautiful of country, life and independance will i be .....a miracle worker...for disaster?
or will i be true and real and happy, calm and relieved that I have found home,

I am hungry for love, hungry for time spent here
hungry for passion and african breakfasts sitting on balconies and waiting for the electricity to come
I am hungry for sweets and dessert so I can taste some sugared company, some sweetened flavour that I yearn
I am hungry for a life I want and need and eat for continouly
I am hungry for living out what miracle workers showed me for it is over - moments with them are over -

but fans hydrating the love for my country, sudan and the air that I desire, still work