Terracotta WarriorI don't suppose you recall who I am.
You were told to forget me. That's
What you did. Now, I float along
Sidewalks, followed by those who are,
Likewise, invisible (though that's by
Choice). I can't work. I can't eat.
I have nowhere to sleep. I'm a ghost
In a land in which loyalty's everything.
You turn away. That's what you ought
To do. I will, ghostlike, go almost like
Drafts through a hovel toward somewhere
Someone says I'll be secure, and I may be.
Who knows? Chances are, I'll be used,
A spirit whose spirit, abused, carries on,
Almost forgotten, symbol of something
Neither of us can recall.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 33 times
Written on 2021-05-12 at 03:30
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