I Am A Merchant

Collins Justine Peter 

of III BA English Copy Editor 

presents a mystical piece this time

I AM A MERCHANT

On this dark and windy night, I hear the clouds sob outside. I do not settle and I do not stay. Since my birth I was a maker and now I am a merchant. I have ‘it’ which the insane world despises and forsakes. I see the miry path, in the sudden light outside. I set out with my haversack full of ‘it’. I hold a staff in my hand and venture out without a map.

I pass dawns and I pass dusks. I trod the hills and cover the plains. Sometimes I stand still and look up to the raging star. Sometimes I lie down and bathe in the tranquil stream on which the star reflects. I hear no Coyote and I am walking again. I hear no more nocturnal choirs but the tick of destiny. Hidden behind those giant trees, they have their bloody eyes on my haversack. I keep moving and I am a merchant from my land.

The merchant enters a civilization of a Persian dream. In awe of me, they clear the way. I see merchants, some haggling and some cheating. Some sell ‘it’ in full and some sell the leftovers. A pair of hands see my thirst and respond with a pot of flowing water. The water tastes like the lady standing before me with a bowed head. She receives my haversack and we move along through the crowd. I am no longer a merchant and now I have a home.