Maybe it’s the rumble of empty stomachs
that makes it hard to understand what was said.
Maybe it’s the ache of backs that have worked too hard
with too little to show for it
making it difficult to comprehend.
It’s a toxic brew –
shame, from knowing it isn’t enough,
fear, of loosing what little there is,
distrust, of the dimly understood other.
It can cause a nasty ache,
and make a person beg
the nearest traveling salesman
for the tonic to make it all go away.
No one minds a drop of snake oil
when the numbness finally starts.
The ache that was a warning
that something more deep and dreadful
is eating you from the inside is stilled.
The price for miracle? Your eyes.
You might start to hurt again
if you saw the ache in others.
Let the nice man with the oil have them.
He might eat them.
He might stuff them up his nose.
He might wear them in his hair.
You aren’t in pain.
Isn’t that all that matters?
Yesterday's News by Shelle Kennedy
Visit her blog, Sunshine Shelle, for more terrific art work!
Song Choice: Do the Evolution by Pearl Jam