Messenger Of Hope Poem by Cheryl L. DaytecYañgot

For a paltry sum, I can tell your future
I can reverse your bad karma

The man speaks with an air of confidence
not complemented by his putrid smell and hair
that has not known water and shampoo for days
Neither by his variegated knitted sweater-
The same one he wore yesterday and before that
My skepticism must be flaunted by my squinted eyes
He rewards me with a winsome smile flashing
spacious gaps between teeth poverty could not bridge
I surrender my direct glower and scrutinize him
from peripheral vision and vigilant ears
A married woman holds out her callused palm

You will find a rich husband

I suppress a laugh meant to sneer, but somehow
he audibly hears the sound I did not emit
I almost believe he has power beyond my
narrow comprehension, outside my little faith
Is it to me that he addresses his word of wisdom?

Those who do not believe will not reap a reward
For it is written: Where reason ends, faith begins

Before the red painted by guilt on my face subsides,
a former overseas worker stretches her palm

Your feet will grow sturdy and wide wings
and you will reach the other side of the ocean

Some of us leave the room with pretext for hilarity
after a weary day spent in stressful confines
Others go energized by jubilant songs in their hearts
after the man deciphers the secrets of intricate
codes in their outstretched palms, onto which
he generously dropped promises of good fortune

Does hunger shove the hungry to professions
of deception and obliterate the non-believer’s
doubt in soothsayers and fortune-tellers?

All is lost when even hope goes
In the midst of destitution, this man

keeps it alive.