Corridors of Learning

I sat on my hands while
She questioned my competency
Saw her mascara leaking
Slow murky tears

Master and Servant
Weighing one another’s wounds
Each curious about the others’ past
Her spine erect with “The Present”
Mine curved with centuries
Of enslavement

Her lips blood red with lure
Mine depression’s pale
I wore the crisp white shirt
Of Director
Knew what leather shoes to buy
Trained to dot I’s and cross T’s

Was this the Freedom I desired ?
Wires across my mind still askew
Knotted and disconnected
I walked the Corridors of Learning
Towards my boiled egg sandwich


{©Ghairo Daniels : Sached Trust : 1992}