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There is a man who lives up the road

He walks 20 miles a day for milk

Bread, cigarettes, peace

He talked a while ago

About the upcoming

War between the haves and have-nots

I wondered if I should be afraid

But that was before his son threw him

Off their porch

Breaking his arm

Explanation became evident

In the bruises peeking through

Constant self-deprecation  on

Those zero degree mornings

As he sat, my passenger, and I

The ride he prays for in winter

 And I wonder what he dreams

At night next to his heartless wife

In the trailer, in the one room

That’s not his son’s

I wonder what he has other than

Complaints about the empty wall

That used to hold the rented flat-screen

That was sold by wife and son for $100

 His type is legion

30 winters in this god-forsaken landscape

And I know creation is a joke

Free of will

Free to suffer

Blows to the sacred empire

 God loves you?

Tell this to the walking man

The thin stick of humanity

Face lined like a map going nowhere

At two miles an hour

Tell him he’s one of Jesus’ children

Take him to Rome ensconced in luxury

For his silence for

I have yet to hear him curse

Rail about his scat-littered life

This socio-diversity for god’s pleasure

This constant cavalcade of misery

 I can see it as he trudges past my porch

Hunched deep in cold tattered jackets

He is blind but for his need for milk

Bread, cigarettes, and peace

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One thought on “God’s Cavalcade

  1. In this piece, I feel the pain of this bullied parent who has been bullied into silence. The only peace he has is when he braves the extreme cold weather seeking food. The hopelessness of his spirit…is more than overwhelming.

    Rhonda Sent it from her iPhone.

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