I meet them again in the same part of town
frozen through and weakened where
they humbly beg
for charity from the quick-paced passers-by
in whom the hearts of good cherubim do not beat
with mutilated limbs and withered bodies they crawl by
the sumptuous displays
and think not of the last trump
although their pupils’ sky is long since bereft
of the proud birds of restless searchers
what happened to them and when did they
got lost on the starry trail to Canaan
and halted just in front of Woodward’s
with the baggage of their thousand crosses
in this late afternoon they only shake in silence
as if they had already said it to the wind
and instead of voices I hear the moaning of the leaves
below the bare branches
of the anguished soul
eyes fixed on the dusty depth
of their defunct illusions
I watch them lean hard on their bare instincts
while faltering to meet the still darker night
and more and more begin to fear myself.
(Vancouver, December 3, 1988)
Post je objavljen 22.01.2011. u 10:32 sati.