The Volunteer

There is no need

but your own.

All of you

do not need

to be here,

except that you

were bidden hence

on propriety goodwill.

A worthiness of bidding,

but still,

own you,

your part, in this

and ask always,

good questions.


Reward me,

in advance,

your servant.

Allow

my slipping,

silently

into the night,

of my bed alone,

as the dog

or early,

dawning cat,

come home,

needs but the door,

ajar,

a little water.


You have

but one

sacred life

and in that

mindfully sharing

just that part

that is real,

true, you.

Nothing more of me,

or you,

to say

and certainly nothing

verbose.


The reward

is not falsity,

but the truth.

I will know

on my arrival,

in the garden,

having carried

what I can,

forwards

in the generous resident vessel,

of my breast.


So adieu, or au revoir

that bit

is unknown,

perfect.

Just surrender me

to my own,

sacred fate

and blessed silence.

My happy returns,

many,

are held, calloused,

in my strong hands

and a little wear and tear.

A tear falls,

away, gone.


Mindelo, Cabo Verde, November 2018