Hospice Earth

Hospice Earth

If you knew me

Would you hear me at all

When words are not made of silver

Their tone more redolent of farmwork

Than the halls of academia

With nary a mention of Homer

Or the perspicacity of Wilde

There is wisdom in the sage words

Of old men

Dressed in hanging clothes

Draped over dwindled frames

As once were filled with vigor

Their mouths full of spit and vinegar

As they sit in easy chairs

On covered verandas

Playing cards for pennies

Rheumy eyes barely focused

On the table

Old mind’s wander farther

Than legs will walk

Hesitant hands tremble

Thickly veined and callused

From the kick of working tools

Horses needed taming

With a firm grip and

The mystery of a whisper

They remember being fathers

Before the swell of rheumatism

Twisted the joints

When the time was that they

Were the gods who held

An infant’s tiny hand

Built a future out of nothing

Put their trust in good faith

Where does all the hope go

As days fly by

Filled with the fear of failure

What do you know of dust bowls

Empty cupboards

Tired eyes, too dry for tears

Promises never made

For the pain of breaking

When did you ever listen

To the sound of a last breath

Rattling in an old man’s throat

Do you ever hear

The drumbeats of ancient armies

Sent to war

Before there was ever any notion

Of reparation

Do you ever wonder who to blame

When you roll the single malt

Around the glass

Before you take a sip

Wishing for another chance

To turn the tables

On the guilt free

To escape the poison

Of the pit vipers

Be the man you hoped to be

If you knew me

Would you realise that no matter

The distance between us

There will come a time

When we can all be too close

For cold comfort

To make a difference.

moments...I cherish her still.