Creative Mélange The Wander Issue | Page 82

He was not alone in t his advent ure digging deep He was t ired and weary Ot hers wit h maps and t errible t ans were t here t oo The weight on his shoulders t oo great ; And t hey saw and yet t hey didn?t see t he same as He. The eyes of t he crowd t oo piercing. They saw t he poor t he marginalized t he weak t he pit iful. The crack of an ent rance t o ut opia was quickly growing slim He saw behind all t hat He saw t he pride And He was one of t he many est ranged t hat lost passage. He saw t he purit y So, cursing God or what ever higher power, He saw t he unending st rengt h of resilience. For t he miserable series He was forced t o name his life So He dropped heavy coins of respect . He packed what lit t le He owned int o a small knapsack And set off t o discover t he nooks and crannies of t he world. The second st op was no bet t er, Or perhaps it was no worse. This t ime He heard The first st op He went t o was an exot ic land. The sharp crack of a palm crossing a cheek There was no doubt t hat He did not belong. The weep of a boy- child left alone His brown shoes and combed hair an anomaly The scream of a lump, once a body Amongst t he billowing wind?s daught ers, The wail of t he hungry and t he hurt . The flowing silk of gowns and t he soft cot t on of t urbans. And He heard t he whist le of t he workers The prayers t o a god Grinning in awe and glowering in jealousy He vent ured in deeper. The laught er of a child The blessings made of hope. As He dug deeper t he light grew dimmer And all He could do was walk on by And more vibrant gowns were replaced wit h rags Humbled as never before The smoot h dark faces of gorgeous women A jumbled box of cont radict ions M orphed int o t he dirt st reaked faces of youngst ers. Tumbling about in his mind. The shapes of t heir bodies so clear beneat h t heir t hin skins. He cont inues on t he pat h Not a single person wit h t he t ime The callouses, t he bruises, t he painful wells of hard work To give him t he at t ent ion He?d hoped for. All prominent . Too prominent . All t oo busy living on, A girl no more t han half his age is carrying life wit hin her All t oo busy fight ing on. Not a single person lost t he flame A girl even younger is feeding lit t le boys He had ext inguished when He left A boy even younger is picking up bot t les And once He t erminat ed t hat t hought The youngest , t oo young t o even speak properly, Are t he ones holding out t wo palms. he headed home t hinking less of himself. he was no longer t he cent er of t he universe An ent it y deserving pit y And all t hat he had, he was fort unat e t o have And all t hat he didn?t have, he vowed t o work for. Not hing in his life was free,And now he knew t hat it was right fully so. 83 82