The Outcast

 A long way to go. How long?

Teeth chatters, cannot sing.

The door- bell. When will I ring?

An outcast. What have I done wrong?

No moon, no stars, no light:

Howling winds, thunder, what a night!

Light?

But lightening!]

Nature is frightening!

Grasped the hands of cold,

None to hold, none to embrace me,

None to cling to me.

Spears of chill the wind flings;

Rubbed warmth into chilled palms.

Once inside everything would be a roaring calm!

But the owl flaps its wings.

Frowned at the iced winds.

The pain,

The brain,

Finds.

On a day, cold and troublesome,

Light and heat are welcome.

But how insufficient the are:

They can blind me,

They can burn me,

They cannot- like her- love me with care.

The body,

Has to play the role,

Of a soul

In agony.

Helpless like a child’s paper-boat,

In a pain-fed gutter.

The verses I wrote,

Is all that I could utter.

ã Phillip ”Peedy” David

5-11September1969