No place to go for him or her
no neighborhood to claim as theirs
eternal pilgrims with no land
bystanders passing through,
neither posterity that could attest
they once walked on this earth,
their lives condemned before their birth
their needs unmet, their rights forsaken.
A bag he carries on his back
with dreams that never came to be
while she rebukes to unknown ghosts
and grooms her cart in search of hope,
one time and many she lost count
of all the things she never got.
And upon the treshold to depart
and having wandered everywhere
they reach their final resting place
their graves unmarked
their names unknown.
Leaving behind a space, a place
they never truly occupied
leaving behind a space, a place
could never call their own.
And when we walked by empty shopping carts, we see,
an empty cart that weeps,
an empty cart that echoes
their silent cries, the aches
the loneliness, the rage
at the world’s indifference.
An empty cart that passes by
while being pushed,
by ghosty shadows of a human being.
An empty cart that carries to eternity
the remnants of their cry for help
the remnants of what never was.
Nobody else to say their names
nobody who remembers they once were,
no prayer, not a tear, no farewells,
erased from life before
we even learned their names.
Suzanna is a published poet and author. She became an avid reader at age seven when struck by severe asthma, she resorted to reading to escape her childhood prison. In 2021, after the tragic death of her youngest son, she published a memoir, in English and Spanish. Suzanna can be contacted at [email protected]
