Comrades at the Crossroads

We give alms to the poor
after so much whinning over
every cent and second
many a managing Timons labour.

We march to a purple sea
sans the Magdalenes ---
so unlike our image and body,
so dangerous for our brains and skin.

We tap friends as judges and scribes ---
litigating realities with our own arguments,
selling ideas that are done deals.

We expand our arms but alas a yell:
"But please, please not them
of different red flags."
No blood on our clammy palms?

So purged that we break the Gordian knot
too heavy and rusty with histories.
undoing, unlearning
reclaiming ourselves, our bodies,
re-creating our memories.
  
12 August 2015, Nathaniels, Timog Avenue