Monday, May 4, 2009

The Disposable Man

Sitting alone

outside the world,

his mind flickers back

to the laughing

full days,

to the tears

and the work

and the love that he gave;


empty now

of the fullness he had

rusted by years

and battered by life

and no longer useful,

he's pushed aside -

thrown away like an old tin can:

the disposable man.

From his silent corner

his lonely eyes watch

for those he knows

won't come.

They grew fat

on his fullness

and tall

on his time,

but now

their own frantic fullness fills

their every hour:

the world has no time

for an old empty can -

less still for

the disposable man.

The gray shadows flit

through his grayer days

till night closes in

with welcome release,

and, horror! he's gone

and the world stops still

while they weep

for their loss

though for years unseen,

and somehow find

sandwiched in between

the hustle of yesterday

and the bustle of tomorrow

a few feet of ground

for an old tin can

and an hour - too late! -

for the disposable man.


Kathryn Darden said...

Very sad, but very tru. Well written.

Keith Wallis said...

Very descriptive and 'of the time'. Accurate for when rejection/redundancy leaves the question of 'worth' high in the mind. 'I' am always more than what 'I do'.

Carol Penhorwood said...

WOW! This is powerful imaging! I wish I could write like this! What a truth you have written and how sad!