Self-Betrayal

I ate myself to hunger for the ready-made miracles of the Papalagis (I can’t afford anymore tinned meals and artificial pleasures of the miracle makers).

The quest for these introduced— pleasures, burned within my eyes until at a point I had no choice I sold myself in the market-places and in the streets I posed for the technicoloured fascinations of the tourist cameras.

Soon . . . my prideless, sacred way of life, fashioned by my ancestors not for sale, was torn worldwide. My worth got cheaper and cheaper day after day . . .

I knew it too late that I was dead while living I fell in shame for I have lost my moorings my canoe has drifted away from the fleet Today I can only try to salvage the wreckage dispersed on foreign shores.