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No means to afford the psychotropic medications

The wheel is turning

A plot off course

Keel without rudder

Braving storms in circles

Tossed about taking hits

Warm hand in hand

Tender Voice Speaking…

But can’t hear a thing above the roar of a fierce wind

Firm grip

held close

Yet still…

Beyond reach


The breaking heart

Suffering in silence

Pain without violence

No bruises



broken bones


Seen from afar

In wheelchairs

On crutches

Countenances belying

Being gripped in anguish’s clutches

Becomes known


The torn garments

The stained Filthy rags

The weathered  jeans

Too tender on the skin

To want to exchange for new


The physical threats

The pushes and shoves

The jostling about

Fitful night dreams

Night sweats

Tossed and turned

The fill

The agitation

The cleansing cycle

The spin

The rinse

The tumbling dry

The ironing

The sorting

The hanging

The storing


When all is said and done

Still picking lint from each other’s clothes

And Bloodstains remain…

On brand new dress shirts

From a few pins left in it

And if it doesn’t fit

Once removed…

How can one ever get it to go back

Neatly  folded

Into a clear protective sleeve?


Once made aware of

The only freedom

Freely given

At great cost


We find fault in others

While history blaringly declares

We have burned, beheaded, hung, tortured

Marched against

Slain our own…

Time and again

Just as we do now

Infiltrated by treachery


Closing the gap of striking distance

Betrayed with a kiss


Eagles, hawks and owls ever vigil

Observe in silence

On fence-posts

About poetreecreations

I am an author writer publisher web administrator I run poetry workshops in the community. My published Manners childrens poetry book can be found at

2 responses

  1. issuudotcomslashdewane

    you’re welcome Frederick. by the way I live on Frederick street, ha!


  2. I really liked this poem. Thanks for sharing.


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