Gavin Joachims Poet Narrative

Swerwerskind

Treetops comfort
when the winds howl down the plain.
Waves crash with thundering sounds
lashing the rocks and sand.
And in the harbour boats sway fearfully
side-to-side, side-to-side.

It’s late afternoon.
The Mother City says good-bye to
one more smile; one more tear and
the soft rain that falls
an echo to her solitude.

Yet, she is not alone.
The big clock keeps seconds at the Parade
and flags are a-flutter at the Castle.
So too do myriad lights her avenues warm.

Then I see them.
Fragile figures bending over a rubbish bin.
On their faces, painted
dirt of days; and tears.

Who comforts them?
Who is there for their discipline;
to still them in times of fear?
Do they experience joy and laughter?
Street kids. Homeless. Discarded.
Wasting on our streets.

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