eye to eye through a scope

the sacred mountain, where oceans meet
and rainclouds gather, was a table
in the hungry eye of the sick sailor,
who could only see mirage, food and water

and dry land, in the greedy eye of the sick mariner
who in his delirium could only see a vacant outpost for empire
sails set to the trade-winds of fate that feed the south
like blood and beast follow the flow of water to death

deep down to where gold lie thirsting for men
and diamonds cut truth, to,
like a dog be a best friend to women
in the name of love and fatherland

something had to die for love to live here,
that something was a someone, who moved with the sun
and somehow got “othered” en mass, dispossessed
a people’s humanity, sacrificed at the altar of colonial ritual