The Visitor Poem by Carolyn Forché

The Visitor

Rating: 3.2

In Spanish he whispers there is no time left.
It is the sound of scythes arcing in wheat,
the ache of some field song in Salvador.
The wind along the prison, cautious
as Francisco's hands on the inside, touching
the walls as he walks, it is his wife's breath
slipping into his cell each night while he
imagines his hand to be hers. It is a small country.

There is nothing one man will not do to another.

Barry Middleton 09 August 2016

Very good poem but the final line, though true, does not really add anything new. The poem is tragic enough without this observation. The poem fits well with these times of xenophobia over immigration.

1 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 09 August 2016

A small country! Thanks for sharing.

1 0 Reply
Fabrizio Frosini 02 March 2016

'' There is nothing one man will not do to another. '' '' Niente c'è, che un uomo non possa fare ad un altro '' The pure truth!

8 0 Reply
Gerry O''donnell 29 December 2014

This is full of emotion and power. Economical with words but not with its impact. It's excellent. Thank you.

3 1 Reply
Carolyn Forché

Carolyn Forché

Detroit, Michigan
Error Success