They lay upon the streets choking on their own. Mounds of people desolate in their being.
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Kicked in the gut; split like lumber. This is a home. Animals have a home.
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Boxes propped up in the rain. Empty cans rot. Feeding is done. Could they have hunger? Is it ours that they’re hungry?
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Displaced assassination. Soul tainted by remark. Hold. The starving soul echoes back and lives in our queried gaze. Is this anyone’s “life”?
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Shoes leaking dirt on new snow. Fingers hold paper canopy encasing country’s dishonor. This is not a life, is it? I think it is best to live.
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Perhaps the hand will move. Will hope spring? Will death take notice of this? Will the good in man change them? Will our naked shame bow softly? Will we course this toward nurturing? Will the hope of man succumb to hunger? Will the pride of man not rip itself from within? Might it begin? Has it now?
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Men, women, and children; living ghosts, alleyways of mankind infested with distrust, cursing the self bending through our streets of our cities and towns to our own expense. We needn’t turn away in shame, or fear of this; fingernails caked in dirt, soiled clothes and hair. Run from it and it rests with you. Mock it and it returns within you. Spit upon it and you stir death. Attempt to remedy; hope, love, salvation, and you turn its hastening back.
Wait.
And breathe in again.
We know these stooped forms are among us. We know the hand extended is not in greed. We know we needn’t fear its power, unless we are soulless and more in need of seeking. Hope shall soar. Death will perceive. The good of man shall foster change. These bones and faces are found in every man. These hopes and despair frequent the soul’s café, drinking in the fullness of grace.
Wait.
And breathe in again.
We must believe in the true nature. We must hope for the caressing of our beings, beckoning man’s better self, his courage, that it might rise up, swell within to champion, take hold our slipped fingers in desire of betterment, prayers of expectant selfless endeavors, freedom to ring not hollow, but thunderous in the flattered ears of politicians! Booming through the streets of home, piercing and raucous about this world, man summoning to man on these cold streets! As we meander nearer the darkness, nearer the end, many will have gleaned over before we know our echo's come `round again. Man cannot wait, not upon the streets of new snow, breathe in again.
Enigma4ever - WatergateSummer.blogspot
National Coalition of the Homeless
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Kicked in the gut; split like lumber. This is a home. Animals have a home.
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Boxes propped up in the rain. Empty cans rot. Feeding is done. Could they have hunger? Is it ours that they’re hungry?
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Displaced assassination. Soul tainted by remark. Hold. The starving soul echoes back and lives in our queried gaze. Is this anyone’s “life”?
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Shoes leaking dirt on new snow. Fingers hold paper canopy encasing country’s dishonor. This is not a life, is it? I think it is best to live.
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Perhaps the hand will move. Will hope spring? Will death take notice of this? Will the good in man change them? Will our naked shame bow softly? Will we course this toward nurturing? Will the hope of man succumb to hunger? Will the pride of man not rip itself from within? Might it begin? Has it now?
Wait.
And breathe in again.
Men, women, and children; living ghosts, alleyways of mankind infested with distrust, cursing the self bending through our streets of our cities and towns to our own expense. We needn’t turn away in shame, or fear of this; fingernails caked in dirt, soiled clothes and hair. Run from it and it rests with you. Mock it and it returns within you. Spit upon it and you stir death. Attempt to remedy; hope, love, salvation, and you turn its hastening back.
Wait.
And breathe in again.
We know these stooped forms are among us. We know the hand extended is not in greed. We know we needn’t fear its power, unless we are soulless and more in need of seeking. Hope shall soar. Death will perceive. The good of man shall foster change. These bones and faces are found in every man. These hopes and despair frequent the soul’s café, drinking in the fullness of grace.
Wait.
And breathe in again.
We must believe in the true nature. We must hope for the caressing of our beings, beckoning man’s better self, his courage, that it might rise up, swell within to champion, take hold our slipped fingers in desire of betterment, prayers of expectant selfless endeavors, freedom to ring not hollow, but thunderous in the flattered ears of politicians! Booming through the streets of home, piercing and raucous about this world, man summoning to man on these cold streets! As we meander nearer the darkness, nearer the end, many will have gleaned over before we know our echo's come `round again. Man cannot wait, not upon the streets of new snow, breathe in again.
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman
Enigma4ever - WatergateSummer.blogspot
National Coalition of the Homeless
Wow. You blow me away.
ReplyDeleteI do it with the best of intentions...
ReplyDeleteThank you, rebeleyeball.
beautiful pictures and words
ReplyDeleteThat one reminded me of the story on NPR about hospitals sending their homeless patients to Skid Row. Caught on tape was a taxi dropping off an old lady wearing her hospital gown and socks on her feet. They followed up on the story and found out where she had been discharged from (the old lady had didn't know, and had nothing on her person that specified which particular health provider). The thought was that the reason she was taken there, was that there are a lot of shelters in the area.
ReplyDeletereally really beautiful...you captured all of it....thank you...
ReplyDeletegraem,
ReplyDeleteThank you.
oldwhitelady,
ReplyDeleteYes. It covers the gamut of the forgotten, the invisible canopy of our forgotten. Thank you for visiting!
enigma4,
ReplyDeleteYou inspired it with your post. I'm thanking you for your words.
powerful ... nice riffing with enigma ... hers was beautiful too ... so much truth in what you guys have written here ... beautiful words wake the soul to painful things ... and spread compassion ... rock on pm
ReplyDeleterory,
ReplyDeleteMany thanks, sir. You and I and enigma4 and millions around the world are and shall continue to join in voice our triumph of the spirit until we drown the cries of "Avenge!" and we retrieve the people drowning under the hubris of the Bush regime...
"Wow" is about the best I can come up with. I wish I had a more eloquent way to describe what I feel after having read that. Thank you for sharing your wonderful gift with all of us.
ReplyDeletept,
ReplyDeletemy pleasure, sir...
Eloquent, beautiful, I think this is my favorite from you.
ReplyDeleteWe need more expressions that evoke compassion and courage if we are to rise to our better selves. And hope. We need hope.
A wonderful gift, tpm. Thank you.
I meant to add....
ReplyDeleteOne of the poem's images I most liked is Shoes leaking dirt on new snow. That caused tears to sting my eyes.
mirth,
ReplyDeleteThank you. I am glad it touched you.