Glenise Lee
My Heart Would Argue Otherwise
The vagueness never really disappears;
most nights my dreams are full of fumbling
and reaching out for where? Which place?
The one I'm going to? The one I'm leaving?
Like trying to box smoke, to no avail,
the task slips from my grasp; its definition,
unknown and structureless, lacks shape. I'm lost
within a maze of formless indecision.
It's thirty years since I left Africa
and still I have these re-occurring dreams.
My head is sure that coming home was right;
my heart would argue otherwise, it seems.
Page(s) 50
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