Gigas, or The Search For Second Chances

How to escape, I posed,
Amid manic conversations
With myself over nshima and ndwio.
Relics beseeched,
Skeleton meals without laughter,
And I could say
It was the African dust
That brought tears,
And add lies to the table.
So much better, the road,
To run and seek fables.
A land of second chances
Despite a bitter ice storm,
That encases the trees.
And when the sun rose
Over distant hills
The trees were set afire,
Crackling under the weighted wind,
A glimpse of ordinary,
Became transcendent,
And I missed my turn.
Now every road,
Leads to a judge.
Every building,
The home of a jury,
And the air here,
Thickens in my lungs.
Every breath as if underwater,
But I resurface to a voice,
Announcing a sign ahead,
Leading to the border,
Of second chance land.
When I round the corner,
I worry, will it be there?
And if not, will I continue?
Either way, should I care?
Should I care,
If this road is empty,
And I am alone.
I press harder on the gas,
Not for lack of care,
But only because,
Until I find that fabled land,
There will be no place,
To rest my head.