As a teen,
Faces I thought I'd see
Clear into gray senility
Became
Withering shadows
Aged by
Antique memories
The bodies of
Young gods
With vital dreams
In their eyes were
Toppled from their pedestals as
An ill wind blew inside…
This urban wasteland.
And I carry them with me
Like songs inside my chest.
So hard to sing them now
Through these screams of my
Unrest.
Tears fall in silent
Howls
For tens of thousands of
Names forming
A quilt
Stitched
From flesh
Bone
And broken
Hearts turned
Painfully into
Art…
Inside this country's guilty
Wasteland.
And an ocean
In between us
Orphaned
Children will die today
Having seen their
Aching fathers,
Having watched their
African mothers
Quickly fade away.
Seemed no one cared
To warn them of
The terrible price to pay
Inside this global wasteland...
And I think of J,
I think of Jett,
I think of Kim, Cunning and Cliff.
I think of Deb and Mike and Wilson and
The list has grown so long,
I almost lose my breath…
I think of smiles we've lost
And dreams we've tossed
Like old sneakers to the air
Dangling now from power-lines
Above streets everywhere…
Our memories broken
Like needles in the rain
We spray-tag their names into
Physical graffiti
So a part of them
Always remains
Here…
In this urban wasteland.
Today,
On this World
AIDS Awareness Day
I remember,
I reflect,
I ponder,
And I don't quite get it
Nor
Understand
How 33 million
Souls can be
Infected…
How some
New fools
Still refuse to heed
The Lesson:
How needles never
Gave a shit about
Friend or family…
How sex without
Protection
Can easily
Flip the script
On the most beautiful-est
Men, Women
And children,
And turn them
Into:
A reference
A STATISTIC
A half-life
A past-tense
A sad poetry
Of skeletons…
Here, in this HIV wasteland.
One.
