Departure by Don Mattera

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I grow tired

and want to leave this city

seething in unrest and injustice

I am leaving…

No,

I have already left.

Look for me

on the banks of the Nile

or under some spreading tree.

I shall be sleeping

the sleep of freedom

don’t wake me

leave me to dream

my dream of departure

from a city

seething in unrest,

void of pity.

I grow weary of eating brine

and I hunger for desert fruit…