The guilt of giving
You’ve seen the heap of rags
That pollutes the air-conditioned
City centre,
That louse that creeps about
In the clean core of sophistication;
You’ve seen him waylay his betters
And make them start-
Especially when they have no change.
You recall the day you came upon him
And were startled by his silent presence
Intruding into your preoccupation:
You hurled a coin
Which missed the mark
And rolled into the gutter
Where he groped for it
With a chilling grotesque gratitude
That followed you down the street.
You dived into the nearest shop
To escape the stare
Of the scandalized crowd
That found you guilty
Of recalling attention
To the impenetrable presence
They had learnt not to see.
Laban Erapu
🙌👌deep.
Awesome piece
LikeLike
thank you MS. Aed
LikeLiked by 1 person