Thursday, September 04, 2008
On behalf of the world
I don’t blame the sweat-soaked man
who pulled the black market trigger.
His scar was constant danger,
bloated by a leaden bulge
and an itch
to be the man society demands,
a drive-by saviour.
I don't blame you.
You wanted a mother to shield you
from the ones who have it all
and the others like you
who have nothing,
for the trickle-down leftovers.
I don’t blame your mother,
who escaped on her own,
left you alone.
It's hard to blame a Third-World woman.
Blame is a masculine fist,
another uninvited seed.
What choice did your mother have?
No more than you.
Where can I, a faraway foreigner
place my scuffed steel-toes?
Whose ass do I kick here?
Where shall I stand for you
with all this money?
It’s available now;
you are already fallen.
on behalf of my world.
We feared your lyrical science,
stole your books and bricks,
gave you machetes and guns and glue,
and a place in the ground.
The only shield left for you
is the mother of us all.
ps. I made the news! This time not as a journalist but as a subject, in the Books section, for my contest win. Click here to read it.
As for your post, I certainly can relate to this line: "Blame is a masculine fist"
Won the contest amd made the Chronicle.
I've been eating honourable mentions for a long time.
Have yet to score a first. Well, maybe with my first story in something called The Fifth Page.
But that was in l966 !
I'm not a poet, but I liked the flow.
My husband, who is a national renowned poet, would not have taken this one for his mag though. He hates, with a vengeance, question marks in a poem.
i only have good wishes for you and your life and career. you of all writers i know deserve it.
Still, congratulations on the much deserved attention, as well as another moving poem.
JR: thank you muchly. yeah, that was a harsh line, but that's often reality isn't it?
Foam: Thanks so much. It's been fun to be a subject.
TWM: it's actually quite specific, which is why I wouldn't expect anyone to know the exact story, but hopefully identify with the images/sentiments. Anyway it's an apology to a boy my wife worked with in Nicaragua. He was a street kid. Tried to rob a bus and was shot dead, in the back as he fled, by a passenger. This poem is about how the world let him down. Everybody.
Kin'shar: Thanks, and thanks for visiting.
Ivan: Thanks muchly. Your best is still to come.
CD: Thanks, much more fun being than watching.
MD: Interesting about the questions. I usually try to avoid them in poetry too, but this one demanded questions, because there are no answers. I do tend to over-use them in prose, trying to drop that habit.
XD: thanks. hopefully more to come.
Yas: Thanks so much, you are really very kind.
PP: The problem isn't your Mac it's that the dumb Herald takes their stories off after a week. As a freelancer that's annoying - I had a story in there once that no longer exists in e-copy, which makes showing it to people more difficult. So it goes.
Kissa: sorry about that - just kidding. Yeah, I hate when people apologize constantly over nothing - we do that a lot in Canada. On the other hand, the sincerest, most needed apologies, are all too rare.