Work is pretty slow right now which is great because it allows me a lot of free time to do some writing. I wrote this poem over the course of the day. It was inspired by a number of things. The title is the same as a short story by Ernest Hemingway. I've also read a number of articles on and seen pictures of the disappearing ice caps of Mt. Kilimanjaro. It's definitely a place I would like to see someday. For now, however, I'll settle for the pictures and stories of others. Enjoy!
Snows of Kilimanjaro
Half asleep in the small town of Moshi
At the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro.
My head, once dormant, shifts like a glacier
Into the valley between two pillows.
I lie within the either/or, a
Pale tourist on vacation passing
Through the local shops of
Strangely familiar faces, the
Vague recounts and recollections that
Exist between two nonexistent dreams.
Down the streets of my hometown,
The natives’ stoic, disembodied
Faces come creeping out
Of their tiny huts that populate
The foot of caravan hill,
Come creeping out and dot
The landscape of my inner thoughts.
I don’t understand how they can live
Under constant threat of being buried
Beneath a wall of liquid rock.
I myself will be miles away when it erupts
Again, two thousand years from now,
As if shivered awake from a dream,
Ash pouring from the sky like snow,
Anointing the godless land,
Cinders kissing with a hissful whisper
The cold ruins of dead memories.
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