Like a sailor checking his ship before launching,

he lists down his small world of everything-

Old house that has turned to rubble & weeds

Places forgotten that hove in his head

Father who wasted violently in a hospital bed

Mother who carried her secret pain silently

Grandma who swaddled him in prayers

Kinsmen who desperately live day by day

Texters who blindly comfort now & then

Friends who perish in bush wars & penal colonies

Family that stands by through the plagues

& faces, young & pure, who mist into air-

Yes, the small world of everything

like a paperboat in a winedark  & windswept sea.

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