Saturday, November 17, 2012

A Famine of Tears

The Arts: Poetry
A Famine of Tears

The Shadows cast their brilliance
On wet and littered streets
Where dreams are trampled
By a dazed and dying multitude
Unmindful of the supplications
Of the teary-eyed prophetess,
Holding forth an inane paper cup -
Like an ignored and rejected prayer.

Even the sultry light retreated
From this disparate apparition,
Earnestly withholding its life,
Reserving it for an echoic new day,
Leaving the mendicant seeress
To grope about for significance,
Unsure of finding her way -
Like a lost and weeping child.

And still she persists, this waif,
Salvaging dreams from trash cans,
Hapless victim of a dare long ago.
And yet she persists, our little sage,
Imploring the surging crowd,
"Spare some tears, spare some tears,"
But the dead multitude moves on -
Like routed clouds, discomfited, uneasy

Subdued reminiscences and stolen desires
Weave their way along broken sidewalks
And among wistful, shadowy figures
Suppressing fleeting dreams of yesterday,
While our threadbare, bare-footed Sybil,
Her sole possessions in a shopping cart,
Divine of the Wrath to come, crying,
Spare some tears, spare some tears, please.

But change there is  in abundance
Of compassion there is a dearth.
As with  parched and barren hearts
A legion of dried up eyes stare,
Sightless, seeing but not seeing,
Instead,  judging the malodorous,
The dispossessed child, too early an adult,
As she pleads, "Please, spare some tears."
Spare some tears, please.

By
Ric Couchman
November Fifth
"a dazed and dying multitude"
[Photographic Art by Angela Pereira]