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Lonely Old Man
by Pamala Kay Juka-Wilson

There is a man in my vision
  who's eyes just stare at me.

With grimy clothes that hang on him,
  he is a man of need.

He reaches out to touch my hands
  instead I step away.

Who is this man who stares at me
  who's come this very day.

With words that have gone unspoken
  I can tell he wants to cry

He strains to say he's "sorry"
  and that he's "going to die"

Oh my God!  I know that voice!
  as though it was yesterday.

When he would yell and beat us down
  in every kind of way.

But we grew up and left our home
  and never did we call.

He must have known there'd come a day
  he'd have to pay for all.

And here he is in front of me
  a wretched sort of man.

Asking me to "forgive"
  again he reaches for my hands

He begins to weep and he says,
  he "loves" me "too, you know"

But I do not love, nor fogive,
  and I wish for him, to go.
        
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Poem ID: 2087   Poem Posted: 3/2/1998
Viewed: 8713  Voted On: 122  E-mailed: 39  Commented On: 2
 
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