In my room, I talk
to my invisible guests:
they do not argue, but wait
Till I am exhausted,
then they slip away
with inscrutable faces.
I lack the means to change
their amiable ways,
although I love their gods.
It's the language really
separates, whatever else
is shared. On the other hand,
Everyone understands
Mother Theresa; her guests
die visibly in her arms.
It's not the mythology
or the marriage customs
that you need to know,
It's the will to pass
through the eye of a needle
to self-forgetfulness.
The guests depart, dissatisfied;
they will never give up
their mantras, old or new.
And you, uneasy
orphan of their racial
memories, merely
Polish up your alien
techniques of observation,
while the city burns.
alien techniques of observation- dang! that's a striking way to end the poem and an apt description of us who are caught in the loop of our own worlds instead of seeing what is, what burns, before us. -glen kappy
Beautiful exposition. Very much relevant to the contemporary context. Thank PH to post the same. Thanks.
Wonderfully penned with great insight into one of the problems associated with our global society. There are very few who desire to service others. Keep writing! Congratulations on winning " Modern Poem." : -)
Everyone understands Mother Theresa; her guests die visibly in her arms. the mother of the poor.. tony
Great poem reflecting the bad happenings going on in this society. You are really concerned about it. Thanks for sharing, Loved it.
Fascinating poem that seeks to look beyond the intransigence of habit, belief and custom; towards a greater sense of self awareness.
Kernels of wisdom beautifully presented.Truly the predicament of the modern alienated man who observes to make sense of his existence while the city burns.The poet aptly says that forgetting the self and serving others is true essence of humanity.Perhaps that's why we all understand Mother Theresa. Indeed a profound! Thanks for sharing☺
Life is in the giving and not the receiving.