Brutalizing In The Background

For all my writing : kilometers spread out in paper mattresses
For all my reaching : unattainable places,
For all my preaching to nearby villages,
About the time I spent to sharpen each arrowhead,

Although I climbed up the convoluted stairs of words and ideas,
Then stood there, on the top, all alone,
And contemplated the platitude of the path in the horizon,
Even though I’ve hope with the fiercest faith that things were different …

You will never know.
I’ve tried as hard as I could,
And you still don’t know. This is my tragedy.
Neither will you ever know
How the harshness in your moves
The jerky patterns in your voices
Brutalize me.



Franck Joseph
©FJ Sept 2021 – All Rights Reserved
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