Twenty Seven Months, a poem by Robin McNamara at Spillwords.com

Twenty Seven Months

Twenty Seven Months

written by: Robin McNamara

@thewindingroad1

 

Twenty seven
months ago
In a bottled 
land
of awakening
dread

Laid my soul
like dead
garden leaves.

The vicissitudes 
of this coat
I wore
on days
stagnated 
with the sweat
of toil
on roads of
rocks.

An unforgiving
Saharan desert
in the house of I

No prophet, 
nor no scholar
could
Water the unknown
sands,
its fine grains
slipping
through my
hands

As footprints
embedded
this nomad Place,
thousands others
had come before,
malnourished

the vultures
had picked
the bones of their
discontent in this
Desert
of Saharan land,
waterless.

Crimson flecks of
blood
on fingers,
grasping mirages
floating across
those blue,
cold, deadened eyes.

I Searched
desperately
for
forbearance,
Like a pilgrim
searching for the
Enlightened path

Via the bones of
those
before them

In a never ending
Saharan desert.

Robin McNamara

Robin McNamara

APRIL 2021 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
Robin McNamara is an Irish poet with over 90 poems published worldwide. A regular contributor to Poetry Ireland poetry prompts. UCD Library have a selection of his pandemic poems in their archives as a record of poems written during this period. Robin’s debut chapbook is to be published with Hedgehog Poetry Press in early 2021.
Robin McNamara

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