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Christine Phillips. Click the Next or Previous links below the poem to navigate between poems. Remember, Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth. Thank you.
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The Inner City
I woke up early this morning contemplating,
pondering over the meaning of this dream,
Dreams that take me to mountains and valleys
Dreams that lands me into big cities,
Cheerful dreams ,troubling dreams
Dreams with no fitting answer
to this mysterious and perpeteous riddle of life.
My quest for deeper truth has outgrown the
the knowledge of my youth and the gift of
enlightenment suddenly appears and has
taken me to higher spheres far beyond
man-made knowledge, exuberant mysteries,
numerous victories,and often times overwhelming
burden forcing me to cry woeful tears.
This night my spirit wanders peacefully in a
dilapidated shopping area in the inner city
It must have ben earlier than seven o' clock in the morning
when I approached a kiosk with its shabby architecture
hinged in dismay among the rest of shops
The tranquil morning stripped of all its beauty
walking upon corridors of hope in the face of despair.
I walked up to the wooden counter with its cheap
merchandize positioned all around and called aloud.
A man whose hidden features remained obscured
Whose secrecy seemed to be buried way beyond
the deep appeared at the counter and said,
"I am opened, all the other shops are closed."
I ordered eggs and he broke the eggs and
pour them upon a white plate,bright yellow yoke
stared at me as if a story was embedded them.
I told him that I wanted whole eggs and he handed me
a dozen eggs in a carton instead.
As I stepped outside an unknown presence told me
that a man who has been locked up for twenty years was released
and I should go and talk to him.Suddenly I found myself in
the company of that man and his wife but I could not see his face.
He took me to the bushes near his house and retold the entire story
And this was what he said to me.
"I cannot forgive myself for what happened, it was an accident,"
he said tearfully; "my daughter was playing at this very spot
when she fell into the pit,she was only three years old
It was an accident." he repeated in a convincing tone.
While he was telling the story I saw another image of him
at the same spot holding the child by the feet with head down
over the pit. This frightening image propelled me out of my sleep.
What we know is that the sun rises in the east and rests in the west
The sun shines upon good and evil, may her precious soul rest in peace.
©2014 Christine Phillips