In My Country - S.K.Lindeman2015©NY USA
I have never built
a career, my career
is trashed by the
same garbage
that strewns
the earth’s landscape,
thrown on
the floor of the subway,
in the gritty spring,
where the crocus
pops through
a plastic bag,
while the mother looks
on, with eyes of stone
and the old woman
next to me,
speaks loudly
pointing, “in my
country”, she
breaks into
English,
sometimes
Spanish,
“we don’t drop
candy into our
children’s hands
and leave trash
on the floor,
in my country”,
while the eyes
of strangers
stare at the child
as
this crinkled, finely
made up woman,
is she going to church?
spews her dissent,
her disgust
at a little child,
and i, complicit, by
being seated next to
her,
try to tell her
in India they
throw trash
out of the train windows,
but today she is
swathed in rage, and
I start to shake
inside,
where the heart
cries
for
mercy.
© s.k. lindeman