|
![](/images/global/spacer_clear.gif) |
Wonât Somebody Be My Friend (Prose Poem) by amanda_dcosta
I am alone , from far off lands
Iâve walked the streets of old.
I have no roof to call my own,
I live out in the cold.
When I was young Iâd scamper âbout
with mum and dad and sis,
from place to place weâd travel on
I knew no life but this.
Weâd go from door to door in search
of food, and clothes and drink;
some gave us these though not enough
in sickness we did sink.
Till finally, I was alone,
death took us all but me.
How cruel lifeâs face shone that day
and it still seems to be.
The life I lived, I shudder to think
Iâve passed from year to year,
with no hopes, no hugs, no love
but only tears and fear.
People turn and laugh at me
and with their tongue abuse
âWhy donât you earn your livelihood
and make your self some use?â
No one would offer me a job
though they still thought I should.
To them I was untouchable
and of course, up to no good.
Iâve tried my hand at shoe shine
and selling papers in the street.
But all that I remember
is the scene of passing feet
-2-
And thus I lived from day to day
moving about was life.
Till in a land I know not which
I found myself a wife.
Together, somewhere, we lived sometime
I had a home at last.
The two of us, we made a team
and time passed very fast.
Fate seemed to have a hold on me
as it, my wife, did take.
I could not understand my plight
nor meaning of life make.
Into deeper despair I sank,
and into sickness too.
Lord, how I survived to this day,
Is absurd although itâs true!
Iâm eighty-seven years old now.
My feet and joints ache.
Iâve almost lost my eye sight
and my back does seem to break.
Iâve lived a hard and lonely life
Iâve lived off wastes and crumbs,
Iâve lived trough rain and sunshine,
Iâve lived in dirty slums.
And all Iâve asked these many years
is whether Heâs above
and whether Heâs the One called âjustâ
and whether He is love.
I do not seem to understand
What life is all about.
At times Iâd want my life to end
But then at times hope sprouts.
-3-
And so I live my last few days
It seems to me like this,
to share the story of my life
and what this big world gives.
I hope that my life story
will inspire hearts of stone
to feel the needs of others
especially of those alone.
I have no home or fortune
I know not what is fame
and when I leave this hard world back
no one will know my name.
Yet, there is hope that someday
I will certainly find
true love and joy and happiness
from what I leave behind.
Back to poem details
|