Witnessing a Man

Poems2012thoughtsdreamsandotherrealizations:

Man, stand up.

You are no longer in your cradle .

I. Anger cuts through his body in distorted waves,

To my eye he is tucking and weaving like a boxer in a ring.

This swinging to and fro with eyes to the sky.

And an open window to his soul

He is taking auditory jabs as he speaks of the robbery of the working poor who feed the non-working poor: “The question is do you feel guilty for quitting work or stupid for not quitting before ?  Fuck it, who cares.  This is a tipping point.  I’m going to ’medical out’.  Everyone else is on disability.  Fuck work, I’ll get it for free”.

He is conquering regret with a heavy fist

It leaves me with a tender heart out of which I whisper alert and calm

Leaving a light trace of caring,
My imprint is a mediocre attempt at salvation in the middle of a shitstorm,
 “It’s ok” I say, as I stroke the demons from his furrowed brow.

II. The boat capsizes and is then righted

I am both a sailor and visitor on this vessel

I am open.  The breeze buffeting my open shirt

I am feeling the temptation of the wind – not a care in the world
while I watch my partner, snarling at my now-open sails

I am leaving  taking home to another place
=As he unknowingly hoists my freedom
And I, like a secret pirate on our vessel
I am guilty of high treason

-          Asia 2012