Missionary Poem by Stefanus Vivier

Surrounded by walls
leaning against the silence
the fist finally closed on him
urging him to open the door
allow the presence
to flow in remove her coat
hang it on a hook
there was no body in it
nothing but a pulse
washing blood like antimatter over him
finally convinced that
the geography has never changed
neither for wise men nor fools
he boarded a ship heading south
urging him towards the dark heart of Africa
running up a slit in the Niger
he finally took Timbuktu
(for God?)