Deep dark lines inhabit his face,
Slowly over time growing deeper.
After every insult, every blow.
Creasing deeper into his soul
Looking. Hoping. Hurting.
His skin hangs on him,
As if attempting to escape.
The scraping concrete on his feet
Ceased to hurt hundreds of miles ago:
When he lost his shoes
Moving. Striving. Finding.
His whole world
Trapped inside a small green bag.
His past, present and future
Gazing up at the sky
He simply wonders where and why
Shuffling. Standing. Watching.
I think it's the unknown that brings the real power out of this piece. The man has a rich story in his mind but I don't get to know the details, only the resulting scars lying on his withered face. In that absence I like projecting my own images into the character, or in this case one of the side characters from Cormac McCarthy's 'The Road' fits your subject's profile pretty well, an old man walking down a road after the complete destruction of civilization. Dark book, dark poem. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
such a living story that sparks like fire in the heart....you got the reason why this wisdom lures you to wake in the poetry of wilderness... Excellent concepts lure each reader to view the deep poetry of all time... like the way you express, it gives me the style and the wit to show mine.... i love it and keep this poem in my collection....thank you for sharing... and God bless you always...a 10 ++++++