Ambition does not work
where she comes from
It does not buy you
any of the meals
whose army of aromas
compete with the rebel stench of filth
for the wings of the air.
It does not get you a ticket
on à rickety bus
through a sea of traffic
to the hills
of shinny seducing lights
and clean air sweatened
by the presence of peace
Ambition has no value here
It is a stubborn shrub
growing by the side of a wide gutter
whose leaves are always chewed
by the strolling goats and dozing cattle
Yet stays alive
and hopes of flowering
when the rain comes
Ambition has no place
in this same place
where it is hawked shamelessly
by the finest merchants
who descend from the hills
But she buys
more than she can carry
in her empty chest
and waits for the day
when she will walk past
the same streets she walks everyday
and they will
become gardens
where she too can grow.
**
This poem like most of my new poetry will be accompanied by a video art installation. Thank you.
The Lost Scrolls 