MAN RIVALING
There's a man rivaling nothing so much as
himself; he's sitting upon the edge of the
midnight pier. His long steps have brought
him here; his despair has kept him in place.
-
I have had nothing to eat for thirty hours or more:
That disarms me, but the last oatmeal in the world
still would not suffice. I am tired and thin and ready
to go. Take this wicked world from me, now.
-
I had parents who died, siblings who stayed, all
of that - yet I am closed and alone in this cycle
of time. Liberty's harbour light is throwing a
midnight shadow somehow moving over the
waters. I watch the rippling movement of Freedom's
ghost, just to realize it says nothing at all. The
bay-chained Liberty has nothing to give.
-
Steerage and passage - all those miserable dullards
clunking along. I can still see them; dragging their
rags and cardboard goods, they struggle to understand
as much as they see. Nothing comes forth to greet them
and, wordless and dumbstruck, they utter their own
tongues' noises : their 'why am I here' sounds forever.
-
Black harbor smokes, ferry stacks belching, grand
roars and the nosies of fires and steam. Wood pilings,
smacked by the thrashing of boats, groan and heave.
The entire world is atmosphere and activity while the
only silent moment comes between the breaths of dawn
and the breathing together of new light and life. The
faint strugglers moves along - wild parsings cut
through the words of night while this man still sits.
He is rivaling nothing so much as himself, and
the judgmement is his alone to be.
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