In the wind
I pretend that I hear the goodbyes
of all the girls that I loved
and the salt in the air is all the tears that I cried
How or when
It all comes back to me in a dream,
back at the fall of time
back where it seems
that my heart was still mine
Who am I?
Did I really deserve all the love?
And did I give enough?
Was this sky still above me?
Did I pretend to be tough?
No regrets
but I wish I could wish them all well
at least for one last time
just for one last time
one last time
because my love was so real while it lasted
and I loved them all
In the end
one man walks alone on the shore
with nothing but the past
nothing but the past
just the past
listening for the lost memory of voices
voices in the wind
listening for the lost memory of voices
voices in the wind
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep
A further collection of poems, many from years in the Middle East, but also the California San Francisco and Central Coast areas (Santa Cruz, Carmel, Big Sur, Berkeley, etc.).
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