Christine Phillips Poet Dramatic Monologue

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

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment