Canadian Dream from berserkerpoetry by Steve Skafte

this bus is leaving when the road allows it
potholes embrace eastbound humans
and shake their breathing with rocky wisdom
if I can endure instead of exist
if I can hope instead of wish
I'll sleep until we reach
the end of the line
it's one of those days that pray for spring
hands clasped in cloud form
forty thousand feet above
a crying child or a dying dove
it's thoughts like these
that tell me I'm waning
waxing distracted
and silently standing
at the steps of home
two seconds from leaving
that's when I feel most like a human being
a human, bleeding
in dark blue waters
of red sea rivers
I am silt
carried south
on a riptide of worry
I am one with the melt
heartfelt with each burst of blood
I am mud
sunk to the bottom
of a silent running mountain stream
I'm a heartbroken question
from a soft-spoken soldier
of a snowbound regime
"What is the Canadian dream?"

• Folk
• poetry
• spoken word
• spoken word poetry
• Bridgetown