(When The Rains Come)
Our house stands on a valley
early summer evenings find people strolling
specially when the sky is arrayed with countless stars,
and a full moon cooperates with a glow
Who wouldn't want a rain-less evening?
no rush...walking easy on a Friday or Saturday night
finding ways to unwind....glasses tingle in toasting
conversation and laughter fill the air...
In parts of the valley shielded by bridges and walls
there live the troubled, homeless souls
they, too, want to breathe the evening air
they leave their improvised homes
find dark spaces, where they turn bolder
some toughened...almost numbed
their litanies, held within
their eyes, beyond shedding tears
their faces stained with sadness and frustration
due to failed expectations
Around these dark spaces
are where callous eyes meet wary looks
where angels mingle with demons
where, most times, indifference wins
against compassion.
Twice,
i met the dauntless, black eyes of an old woman
i almost dropped mine, to avoid the stare
but she tapped my elbow...i looked up again.
Both of my shoulders would not suffice
to ease the burden this old woman carried
how do we deal with a problem that always starts but doesn't end?
how? when most turn their faces, their backs, their thoughts away,
because, there's nothing spectacular to see, or be expected
just more unpleasant things to come up.
The rains have finally come...our valley
most often, turns into a gully
where it seems to be raining forever.
i think of the old woman with black eyes
if she's still around, could she be hungry? wet again?
shivering from the cold rain?
where could she be seeking shelter
now that summer
is finally over?
Sally
Copyright May 23, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan