Always Out of Reach

Those dreamers learn that two restraints abort
The birth of paradise. The first is that the ones
In charge already have brought into being quite
A different paradise, the one they favor seeming,
To the eyes of most, obscene, grotesque: a world
Where the poor pay taxes; wealthy people never do;
A world where the owners of machines receive all
Of the profits; those who operate the things get nothing.
They can't pay for doctors' care, or even medicine,
And prayers and keeping fingers crossed are all
That stand between another few months in some
Shitty hovel and the “opportunity” to reside on
A street. So, on the one hand, paradise cannot
Be born. Its sibling sutures shut the womb, and, on
The other, those one might have thought would
Cry out, “Let the better dream be born,” in fact,
Are silent, fearing, pitifully, that the slightest
Movement toward improvement of their lives
Only will lead to loss of some sort, not yet known,
But dear, they fear, too great to sacrifice for
Paradise.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 52 times
Written on 2021-08-06 at 01:04

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