Relative
Not a word, not a whisper,
Not a finger lifted
To query my angst.
Empathy ounced
In minuscule bags,
Is dangled briefly before vestibular eyes
Then shoved
Into bottomless pockets
That shock infect one’s own expression.
The benefit of the doubt
As always – my call,
Led to the dysfunctional response.
Maybe my witness was tainted,
Maybe illness fogged up
These lensed off events,
For I continued to pour
Years of investment
Into one way streets –
Unusual for Melbournian roads.
And this fact,
Should have been my warning heeded.
Yet, I put aside my own rules
And ricocheted forward – until now
Where their personal inconvenience
Body slammed me into the pavement.
These people
Were never family!
Thank goodness
For the Grant-ed role model,
Which now fills the void
The emotional chasm left behind
By those who tainted the sacred.
Audio Version (To Be Added)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 2008