Saturday, 4 June 2016

INJURY

INJURY

‘You’re dead whoever you are’
He screamed as she hobbled away
On crutches ‘you’re dead’
He repeated, dragging his tattered
Damp sleeping bag behind him.
She limped away; and from afar
Turned once more; naming the
Freezing Dublin man as a
Scumbag drug addict.

The homeless man I felt sorry for
She a stranger judging him
With passing, cruel remarks;
His life already dark; a
Desperate situation: I could
Only contemplate what her
Injuring tongue must have said
Before. Her only temporarily
On crutches.

While this so-called modern-day
Society; held him permanently
In its clutches. Angry
And hurt; he raised his fist at air;
Voice cracked and broken;
 ‘You’re fuckin dead’, were the last words
 I heard spoken. He lowering
His head. It was then I knew –
It was he who’d died
Long ago, inside.

No comments:

Post a Comment