He woke, startled, eyes wide,
Yes, he was awake.
The sepia dim of his
curtained room
only added to the
disappointment in his mind.
For in his dream,
he had died.
The deadly disease he had,
had destroyed him.
Now, to his sorrow,
he was alive.
But for heavens ban,
he would grasp the boon of suicide
smiling to his grave.
Now, the new day
dragged out before him,
a long slave march
under broiling desert sky,
until the coming night,
when, perhaps,
he might be blessed
enough
to die.