Leftover people

This is life’s end: their bodies twisted and starved,
Cramped on a dry mouth. Black
Eyed shadows of clouds exploding rain,
Whitened faces of the drowning;
Bodies gloomy in a dump of mud,
An unforgiving country slapped your foot-soles
And your cries, all night you crawled
And swallowed the dust; now you breathe canvas
In a sea of tents, your call for help rolled
Into the doom noise of the dying.

Dirt cliffs are edged with bloated children, fingers
Embroidered in starvation; death walks among
Them, dangles the bone shells,
He knows their time, but no refugees know;
The earth turns now, a minute, an hour,
Souls turning in the soil, soon they’ll be free.
The worms walk among them,
Stuffing their mouths with dirt, the world says a prayer
But sheds no tears; the tent city soon a barren land,
Tattered canvas blowing in a dull wind.

Copyright © 02/20/18 lance sheridan®

Leftover people

4 comments on “Leftover people

  1. Barbara says:

    Lance this writing is an example of excellence; the images portray a reality in our world today; there’s much suffering, death, diseases, etc., that many do not stop to consider in others situations. Lance everyone of your writings reach into the depth of your mind to provide such a magnificent portrayal of actual sightings as seen through your eyes. Your writings enrich and show the importance of the scenes you’re writing about – you’re an ACE!!

  2. How often has the world seen such tragic tent cities? You’ve written an eloquent elegy for their forgotten occupants.

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