The Beggar

The sulky footsteps drew nearer
As drumbeats on crescendo
Motionless--behind a road post,
Like a fool who banged himself unconscious,
Having enough of the daily
Yearnings for mercy.

The face:
Still and fixed. Yet deeply piercing
Like a spear through the heart.
Silent. But speaks itself
In a language anyone understands
But everyone ignores
As shadows passing through.

The emptiness personified.
___________________
(Nothing everyone shares,
Everything to no one)
Outstretched to reach for freedom
From behind prison bars

Had he the jacket of Al Jarreau,
He could have passed for a
Performer on Broadway,
Or the striped shirts of convicts,
He would have passed for a
Pantomime-teller.

Back with equilibrium--
No motion, no action, no reaction.
No torque--
Comes the dismal stare
Of Africa
Brought to the streets of Manila
Like scattered chesspieces Sicilian
Waiting for a radical change in position.

No. Not now.
Not when shadows move
Past him without stopping. Unending
A heart hardened and
A pitiful blind passerby...