|
The Hermit
One room shack
overgrown grass and bushes
grease mixed with oregano
a dented metal cup hanging
on a nail by the rusted sink
Old man
40 years ago
he chose his retreat down
15 miles of dirt path
society’s rules and consumption
had overwhelmed him
crucified him
The woods his solace
the sounds of birds his neighbors
life was simple
Time has caught him
too old to move
suburbia has taken his woods
driven away his feathered friends
dogs break the silence
dirt becomes asphalt
wires cut his horizon
autos roar
children scream
TV’s blare over the cedar fence
his thin body shakes with unholy vibrations
he is surrounded by brown light
his escape is barred
He is now blind and deaf
smells are all the same
living is a senseless ritual
the hermit’s shack is falling
Death is kindly knocking
his vision is restored from the inside
he hears angelic voices
the birds return
once again his isolation is complete.
☼
|