Smoke etched shadows
Crowded the halls
The night you were assaulted,
Dressed differently a bright flamingo target.
The hunter and his prey,
You and your friends
Worried mother sent her eldest
To keep watch armed only with his mobile.
A stranger in a strange land he stood out,
White coat, chinos and shirt,
Seemingly misplaced in a sea of black.
The crowd accepted him,
His reputation working within,
Cross community projects.
Before long they shared their pain,
He was only there to watch, report,
He took it all, a feast of sorrow.
From the abused artist, to the single parent,
They came to him, danced with him,
Shared with him.
He stood watch, a silent sentinel,
Against the violent hounds lurking
On street corners.
Developed an ear for the music
Helped the community until the
Time came, a victim wanting
To take a stand.
Names were given
The police acted
A man assaulted,
Reported his pain.
At last the sin eater could go his way,
The work done,
The tales consumed,
Boiled within him like a fetid stew.
Your scene has grown now
No longer afraid, you run
Alternative evenings:
Your club, Unity,
The message - one of openness.
The sin eater watches'
From the shadows of the smoke machine:
His metamorphosis complete,
Joins the meadowed
Floor of Goths,
The sin consumed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem