He doesn’t ask questions
Because he’s afraid
Of the answers he
Might hear.
This leaves only one option:
Talk all the time,
Fill up the space
With shallow blather.
At least this way,
He assures himself,
They won’t
Be on to him.
A superficial being
Desperately trying
To avoid
Looking at itself.
The inspiring resilience of
Those who endure unimaginable
Horror at some point in life
And refuse to remain bound by
Dread, realizing instead that
There is more to life than
Settling into the lowest hollow,
Rising to heights of limitless,
Healing, love and peace.
Arriving at a place
Free of contamination;
Anger and recrimination
Fading beyond memory,
A growing sense of peace,
Years of toil culminating
In a single exhalation.
He spots the well-dressed
Business man walking toward
Him and eagerly asks him
Whether he wants a shoe shine.
Kneeling in front of
The man, he goes about his
Magic, buffing and polishing
With a friendly smile.
The ritual ends with a
Diffident request for payment.
The man reaches in his pocket
And tosses him a pittance.
The day passes,
One customer at a time,
Staring at the shoes
Of the powerful.
They meet at their
Favorite restaurant but
There’s not much to
Say and hasn’t been
For some time now.
Staring at their
Plates, moving their
Food around, waiting
For something that
Won’t come.
They both remember
Vivid conversations,
Ready laughter,
Looking forward to
Seeing each other.
Cutting all
The lifelines.
Boats set adrift,
Heading toward nowhere.
A roiling sea
Gulping them whole.
You’re on your own
In this world.
Don’t expect us
To help you.
Sad spiraling
Plunge to the bottom.
Made to feel
Exceedingly small,
Unimportant,
An afterthought,
In his formative years.
Dominated, controlled,
Berated, violated.
Left to fend for himself
Without any sense
Of direction,
Set loose
With jagged protrusions
That slash the
People he comes
In contact with.
With a shrug of
His shoulders he
Says that there
Will always be poverty,
And, unknowingly, with
That one pronouncement,
Millions, billions, of
People are relegated to
Being poor, simply
Because this one
Woefully misinformed person
And everyone like him,
Have bought into the lie that
It has to be this way.
Somber hall,
Air of sanctity,
Robed men enter slowly.
At the helm,
The one with the
Biggest hat.
Instructive incantations,
Solemn reminders of
Established order.
Not officiating,
Nor allowed to,
Women.
Waiting at the bus stop,
Breath visible under
Orange street light.
Step on, find a seat,
Watch the city pass by,
Imagining what goes on
Behind each window,
An occasional figure
Headed somewhere.
Punch in, work until
Wrists, arms, shoulders,
Back, legs protest.
Ride home, paycheck
Nestled in pocket,
Familiar deliberation,
Which bill to pay.