I know them.
They are of me,
all these travelers
round about.
We are in cahoots.
A conspiracy seethes,
entwines the lot.
And yet, of it,
none do speak.
What binds as glue
remains unsaid.
Cry forth the child,
“Mommy, where are you?”
No one, not one, ignore.
Mommy is found.
The child is saved.
“Ow, oh my,” a woman distresses.
She’s bumped her knee
and dropped her purses.
A man of color different
sets down his bags
and helps retrieve.
The woman smiles and breathes,
“Thank you, thank you.”
The man’s grin lags.
“No problem. OK?”
“I am, I am.”
“Enjoy your trip.”
“I will. And you.”
A couple old and grey
put down their bags.
They look quite lost.
Young woman behind
her bags swing round
“A-line, I say. Which way?”
“Afraid that we can’t say.
C-line for us.
Perhaps seen that?”
“I have, in fact.
It’s over there.”
“Hooray, hooray.
We’re on our way.
But what, my dear, of you?”
“Not to worry. Enjoy.
I’ll simply ask another,
a mother, a brother, a boy.”
And so it goes,
without contempt,
without design,
without nefarious aim,
we all accept,
and quite do trust,
we’ve all become benign.
Yet, there are those,
it’s sad to say,
who do not share
in our conspiracy,
who’d rather think
to do us harm,
fast grab our bags,
hard poke us
in the gut.
Their fault or ours?
It’s hard to say.
Perhaps a little bit of both.
Some we do shun
per no redeeming reason.
And some shun us.
Call blame our taxonom.
I have to wonder:
what each,
the shunner
and the shunned,
may one day seek?
A stone to throw?
A bomb to set?
Or, something
more insidious yet?
A subversive interpretation
of all the laws that bind,
that pledge us to each other?
Inspiring trusting generous hearts
toward selfish, fearful, weak?
To travel then would not be fun,
suspecting everyone.
That child would not be found.
Woman would be stepped upon,
Old couple? Shoved to ground.
Young woman stalked, abused.
Man of color cruelly bruised,
or maybe even hung.
|
Friday, June 29th, 2012
Chicago
IL
USA
|
