Midway though our life’s journey I found myself
lost in this dark place. All paths to the future
curtailed. I found myself hung out like a coat
on a rack. As the camera pans you see
hordes. But where you see a hungry mass I know
myself one among many. Forgotten. To speak
of the journey is hard. And to tell of my arrival
is to tell of how the horizon’s stinted.
Here the path stops forever. Cut off by water,
by wire, by jungle. By Aussie lawyer speak.
If I retrace steps the path returns us to where
I am my mother’s second son; a bright shard
of happiness as I recall her gift to me
boundless as my natal sky. She tells of the land
of sanctuary, clemency, refuge, and asylum.
Midway though our life’s journey my papers
were cast out. And I was lost in the rough
where the right path’s unfathomable. And how
can I tell you the fear in me as I stand
In these woods. My grief as the way turned,
from the bright path upon which mother had set me
I am stuck in a small dark place with many others.
The path ends here where the future is mere
rumour. The jungle’s tangled and savage.
Midway on life's journey, our sure path lost. Death's
scarcely more bitter than this narrow place.
I find myself one among many, strung out. Forgotten.