I chanced upon an old letter
That had clearly sailed legless on seas
Crumpled, damp but inside the envelope
Intelligible writing by sight
But by comprehension I was lost
Disorientated by sea-sick phrases
Somewhere a long way from our
shore a man or woman, very desperate
to find their way on board a ship
going in the right direction
When those who could speak
a second or even third language
were called forward
this person’s mind reached far,
back to french lessons at school,
every country visited and greeting noted
and piped up: I speak very good French!
But French speakers were common
Try harder! shouted a polite man
I can speak Zulu!? silence...
Pashto is very useful…
Ah! my mother tongue,
I dream in that language
Yes I am still in touch with my mother
with whom I speak, of course,
in Pashto
Setting sail on the lonely sea
There is nowhere to hide
besides the engine room,
And in there you will be used as fuel
Put to good use
*—Well I did think once that I was being summoned to an underwater land but in fact it was a ruse, a trick to rob me of wallet
Part Four of The Man Who Longed to be an Oyster
