This is a poem I wrote more than a few years ago. It was in response to encountering the homeless while in Washington DC.
Good Friday
I. Intersections
As you stretch out fingers for coins,
I notice maps to places only
dreams have been. There is
distance in your eyes.
Clink, clink of quarters into cups.
And I deny you.
II. Georgetown
Crippled bodies uphold walls
where mutual funds pay for mochas
and books on poverty.
Eyes avert dilapidated lives,
bitter reminders all backs can
support brick and mortar.
Resting with change from step-ahead,
step-around, step-aside strangers.
And I deny you.
III. Union Station
Agent Orange glazes your eyes and ideas.
You tell me stories of jungles and war.
Do you know I have no knowledge of war?
And when you ask I will say no?
Ransom for peaceful sleep.
And I deny you.
IV. Sunrise
In the distance, I hear the rooster crow.
Am I your modern-day disciple?
Eyes lifted to see eyes, ear tuned to ear
2 comments:
I remember this poem - it is poignant and touching. I am glad you put it on your blog. And I thank God for your sweet spirit that wrote it in the first place. I love the poem and you. The teacup stuff is neat too! xo
amy - sorry to leave this message on an unrelated post, but please email me re: monkey's spring travels! he'd LOVE to visit Oklahoma City :)
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