What am I doing here - a poem by P. K. Odendaal – June
2020
The road that
I travel is made out of gravel
Never
was I told it would be streets of gold
It would be
dull indeed if there was no need
or
if there was no more I could suffer for
Losing my
drive to try and survive
Would imply
that I am ready to die
I have to
hold fast till my calling is past
and
cling to all things which meaning me brings