Christine Phillips Poet Prose

The people you meet in the street

I see them walking like cowards down the street, faces as stiff as board, and a countenance that says, “we cannot take it anymore,” their cross eyes looking steadfast at the sky and raw emotions dribbling from their eyes. A strange heat began to filter from the air, roasting leaves on the trees far and near and disrupting the city’s heartbeat. Something is stuck in the riverbed, and the children are not fed, heaven weeps when danger parade in the street and chaos is born out of the bosom of men walking around with bullhorn and my friends’ rushes to give a helping hand. The people you meet in the street have something trampling below their feet. You just don’t know when destiny will strike, you just have to wait for heaven to give you a bligh and dry the tears as they drip from your eyes. You have been talking for more than fifty years and still you don’t know the route of how to get there. Men of wisdom waste their time in the street, you gamble with ordinary people's lives, and you make useless sacrifice. You move heaven on earth, and you are still meddling in the dirt. There is no compromise and you must erase all the lies; you must stand down on your feet to cool down the sweltering heat. I will invite you to my home and show you where destiny roams, we will pull this thing apart before we start rumbling in the dark; when the weather is clear, I want you to meet with me over here. There is enough time and you have to tender to the people’s cry, gather your courage and come, and let us meet under the canopy in the sun. The mood must be right for this is the last time we you will have to make this once in a lifetime sacrifice; you must face the truth and open the windows for the youth; there is no more time to waste for the wind is banging at the gate. I see them walking on the street with bundles on their head, tears rolling down their eyes for someone has just died; the stories are heart-rending, families are scattered everywhere and there is nothing that you can do to retrieve the damage shoe. Stories after stories make you weep and pour guilt all over the street. I tell myself that I will separate from it for the world is looking for profit. The people you meet in the street have a profound message for thee.

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