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| Keeper in The Dark by © butterflydancer707 He stumbles along in the park clutches his pain to his heart tight, hoards it there, wild-eyed, drunk moves unsteadily, disorientated among merry-makers, powell street festival celebrants, musical invaders, feasters of delicacies, samplers of culture, repulsed by his stench his dirty, unkempt, uncared for, unloved, dis-spirited, empty self. They shield the eyes of their babies, childhood ought not to see, with their bodies, uneasy, downward glances eyes break contact, disguise disdaint, the bent line of their backs tell it all, pretend he's not there. The master of ceremonies has arrived boisterous and bold like a clown he bows low falls into the grass. Unsteadily he rises, greets his guests one-by-one his glazed blood-shot eyes stare out from pock-marked, saggy grey, brown like the earth, brown like my skin. Face outward toothless grin, delighted by the company their rudeness lost on him. Gently he is nudged aside. Greatly he protests, arms flapping, struggling to stand his ground THIS IS MY LAND GO BACK WHERE YOU COME FROM, he is lifted by both arms moved to an un-used corner, a reservation within the territory, he stands resigned, disappointment in his eyes, eyeing the cool green grass, falls down, down, face first into it then lies very still. The child and I who once abhorred him, rejected him, turned out back too in shame DRUNK INDIAN INDIAN DRUNK study him now curiously, without awkwardness wonder what he dreams? Relative, Ancestor, Forgotten Warrior weary lines, broken teeth, bruised lips clenched in despair, or ecstacy. Wonder how, now that we know the secret, how we managed to escape. |