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Iakovos Garivaldis

“What’s the name of my mama?
She’s da Street
But don’t ask me ‘bout my father
Lady dear,
Look ‘a here…”
As he turns to scratch the surface of the road…
Looking down upon his luck,
Kicking hard at every rock.

Then at dusk
Sniffing thinner in a corner,
In the dark.
Dreaming dreams about purity not love.

Who can clothe him
not reject him,
Who can now understand him?

Smoking grass,
And sniffing glue
Just to see if dreams come true,
Just to smell what eyes don’t see;

And some day, a lethal dose
Just as sudden as he came
Falling motionless
And in vain
In a placid, timorous gaze…

There, my lady
Now he’s rich,
Part of rain and the mist
All within our own sight…

Little child of the road,
In this world all you have sought
Is embedded in the dust upon your hair
And refreshed with the rain
Running silently while spinning
round your neck.

© Iakovos Garivaldis

2 Comments so far:

  1. Morgan Gabrielle Gabrielle Morgan says:

    A sad poem, Iakovos. I particularly like the opening stanza and a great photo to illustrate ‘Street Kid.’ Well done! Gabrielle.

  2. admininstrator says:

    Thank you Gabrielle,
    This is truly a sad poem, however real. Life is not what it looks like through the TV screens. It is much more devastating than that and man can be brutal where he can be understanding. There’s a reason for everything, we just don’t look hard enough at times.
    Iakovos

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