The Volunteer
There is no need
but your own.
All of you
do not need
to be here,
except that you
were bidden hence
on propriety goodwill.
A worthiness of bidding,
but still,
own you,
your part, in this
and ask always,
good questions.
Reward me,
in advance,
your servant.
Allow
my slipping,
silently
into the night,
of my bed alone,
as the dog
or early,
dawning cat,
come home,
needs but the door,
ajar,
a little water.
You have
but one
sacred life
and in that
mindfully sharing
just that part
that is real,
true, you.
Nothing more of me,
or you,
to say
and certainly nothing
verbose.
The reward
is not falsity,
but the truth.
I will know
on my arrival,
in the garden,
having carried
what I can,
forwards
in the generous resident vessel,
of my breast.
So adieu, or au revoir
that bit
is unknown,
perfect.
Just surrender me
to my own,
sacred fate
and blessed silence.
My happy returns,
many,
are held, calloused,
in my strong hands
and a little wear and tear.
A tear falls,
away, gone.
Mindelo, Cabo Verde, November 2018