Saturday, December 3, 2011

Into the life of the Living

As I walk along Gurney Drive
I hear voices
and sounds
people make to
be understood,
to be accepted,
to be comforted,
to be a part of that whole
business of belonging.
Talks of devastation,
discussions of passion,
calls for trades,
exchanges of ideas,
proposals that matter
and disposals of troubling anguish.
Through cell phones,
with lovers,
among friends,
a nod to strangers
and a gesture all alone.
The sea is calm,
the tide is out,
the moon hangs down
like a lantern
in the ebony sky.
Everyone had their meals,
everything's in its place,
everybody's walking
to wear away the excess
of their baggages.
They didn't see it
although they knew it.
They didn't hear it
although it was jarring.
They didn't feel it
although they scratch themselves silly.
But they will soon taste the saltiness,
and smell the fear
that they have buried
in the shallow graves
of their unrest.

No comments: