Piss-stinking tramp
on the steps of the park
stops us at the curb,
his smell like a wall,
his voice spewing
through crumbled, rotting
teeth.
We recoil from his filth
and the rest of his decay,
but from my heart
spills pity and dismay.
This man was a baby once
with smooth, perfect skin.
One day the thunder
took him away
rolled in a storm barrel.
The shimmering hope
that makes life livable,
that gives us status and
aims,
was swilled and spat out
in jets through toothless
gaps.
All sense of self
got struck off the page
once kept just for him.
Now this park is his yard
and we are both
potential providers
and proof of a heartless
world.
*Praรงa
da Alegria, which
translates as Happiness
Square, is a small, pretty square in the centre
of Lisbon, where we were for the weekend, and where we came upon this
man of misfortune.
(Status, park, rest,
thunder, spill, steps, shimmering, yard, page, jets, spewing, curb.)
Indeed. But there is a deep sense of powerlessness in the face of the size of the problem; are we heartless or just impotent?
ReplyDeleteAmazing wordle. You used the words well. Very descriptive situation.
ReplyDeleteSo sad.
ReplyDeleteClever use of the words, and a great descriptive story. Well done.
ReplyDeleteThe compassion in this teeters precariously only to balance and fall on either side of the fence completely. We are not powerless, only unsure. The choice always remains ours. Well written Veronica.
ReplyDeleteVeronica, how terribly sad for that man. We never know which way life will swing. Very descriptive write, sorry for my late visit from the whirl, it has been a busy week.
ReplyDeletePamela
We are all travelers...
ReplyDeleteSome of us are lucky enough to have tickets.
We cannot guess as to how someone else got to where they are, but perhaps we can give them a brief moment of escape, or hope.
Nicely wordled.
Thank you for your visit.