I press myself near the wall
hang my hair over my face
and hope all
you see
is a shadow
a ghost
another passerby
One in two thousand
I turn my feet inward
even my walk is
submissive
it’s the prey’s
walk of shame
It’s a blessing
going unnoticed
I train my eyes on the floor
and watch plastic legs walk by
carrying matches for bodies
ashes for faces
You light them all on fire
and they go up in flames
unaware
you turn on your heel
and strut away from the
burning house
scene of the crime
as the silent shrieks
echo behind you
And after death
we slink along the walls
even among each other
our tight-lipped smiles
are caging our candles
our whispered voices
are pleasantries
as we bow our heads
half-smiles obscuring
an outsider’s view
But you’ve never
done the prey’s
walk of shame
you’ve never been
set on fire
it’s hard to
explain
Sorry, but I see more than a ghost here. You can try to remain unnoticed but it won't be easy with talent like this. I find it very interesting that you feel that death will not bring about a change of some kind- -but rather more of the same. I don't remember ever hearing that viewpoint before, and I find it a little disconcerting. Great poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'But you’ve never done the prey’s walk of shame you’ve never been set on fire it’s hard to explain' I find these lines in particular poetically beautiful and really strong.. You tagged 'depression' as a topic for this poem and I read this from that perspective.. Nothing is perhaps more insidious and hard to empathise with than depression. Others think one is just 'fine' or maybe need to just 'cheer up'... A really amazing poem... _________________ P: S: I maybe a little wrong, but allusion to the 'walk of shame' seem to suggest the 'stigma' associated with depression and/or mental disorders? ? Isn't it? ? Beautiful, or in Yeats' words, a 'terrible beauty'... Thank you for sharing...
Thank you so much! I appreciate it!