A boat, looms in the great big distance ahead
as people clatter onto the boat – some for their first…
…and last time, others for another country;
with its strange ways.
Waves, rocking the boat, rocking, as if lulling
it to a sleep.
I; a prostitute to the lands –
savour every moment, and gulp in every
culture into the very heart of my being.
Until now – I; a Prostitute to the lands;
do not know where I camouflage into.
The smells are so different, to where
home once was so long ago…
Belonging – necessary?
I; a prostitute of the lands –
view the world with
feasting eyes,
lusting for more
culture manoeuvres
of a pure exotic
natural element –
this is what
I; a prostitute of lands…
…looks forward to.
A boat looms, and
takes
I; a prostitute of lands
into the cultural heritage
as I integrate into one.
