Hermit

by John Smallshaw
(London, England)

I thought that I could walk on water and as the son of man
I should have swam with big fish
wish?
I should have wished the World away
stepped into another day of Saints and sinners
losers
winners
who brought hope and misery to
us
the peasantry.

Presently
pleasantly surprised
I find myself under clear blue skies
on a desert dune
whereon I rise and call out to the stars
the sun
the moon
who if they hear at all will tell me all too soon
just to whom it is I should pay homage.

I reflect as the heat reflects up off the sand.
Is this land fit only for those castles that would blow down in a storm?
what form does man take when the breaking of the bread
is taking bread from starving men?
When?
And then these thoughts that take me hostage are the homage I must pay
To live and write and fight
a ray of sunlight
and in it wrapped tight
another ray
the simple way of it
to sit and wander through these thoughts
and I thought
I could walk on water
can't even stand on my own two feet.