I know, that you’re tired; I know, that you’re anxious;
I know, that your tolerance is low.
I know, that you’re angry; I know, that you’re weeping;
I know, that your mother left you, long ago.
I see how this world conspires to ruin you;
how it just seethes, with crime and with sin.
I know that to see and to feel it, within you,
means the poison starts working within.
But think of the millions who need this, your message;
think of those without the power of voice;
think of the lonely, of the asthmatic, of the stolen;
think of those, who have no choice.
Heed then, their sorrow, their questionable allegiance;
give them at least, some hope with which to bear
the rancid, the gory, the traumatic and the hollow:
the voice that is strong is the one that is near.
*
From "Buddha's Broken Fingernail" by Daniel Viragh.
All rights reserved.