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Christ on the Bench
Sometimes I pass by a person crying on a bench
In the middle of the afternoon of the busy city
Of course no one tries to console this person
Or even ask what’s the matter or if they can help
I follow suit, got things to do and people to see
But the sun is gold, the sky is blue and most of us
Are too polite to break down in public spaces
Are too afraid to seem weak before the others
This inconsolable Christ on the bench has sinned
Against the peace of we the busy, we the sane
What right does this wretch have to trouble us
With the evidence of difference and melted mask,
To be human and troubled in the age of machines
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Christ on the Bench
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4 comments:
in my defense, I'm usually too distracted by people asking me to sign things, give them change, or give them cigarettes to notice.
it's all those peoples fault, I swear!
people probably don't ask for fear of rejection?
like some one is blowing snot all over the damn place and you ask them if they are ok?
only to get slammed
with a LEAVE ME ALONE!!!
uh ok i wont fing help you.
like go cry in your car or something then
detsquir: but what if they're crying cause they lost their car?
I don't know why I started the poem that way. Just brainstorming like usual and one line led to another. I just figure there's nothing I can do to help them. If the crying person asked for my assistance I'd take it from there. Mainly I assume they're crazy like everyone else.
ps: I ain't no saint;[
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