Sunday, November 13, 2011

Alone: a poem


The sun slowly draws its curtains as I tiptoe on its fading rays

Unspeakable winds befriend my already independent hair

And I walk, alone.

Looking on either side of my northbound compass

I drift past geometrical shapes of brick and stucco, gleaming metal, and healthy lawns

And I wonder, alone.

How have I earned the right to pass my presence through these streets?

Why am I here on this side of the fence?

And I discover, alone.

Nothing. I have done nothing.  

But neither have those on the other side,

those who have no rights, but roam the dusty concrete of misfortune.

And I admit, alone.

Birth intertwines with fate

Leading some to treasure as easily as it does others to barren wasteland

And I revel, alone.

For on either side of the wall, fortune and misfortune do not have to linger

And while I may have recognized a certain existence, this recognition,

alone

is not sufficient.

And I must act, perhaps

alone.