I capture life everyday

There is no camera to get in my way

Seared in my mind

Faces, moments, meaning

 

If I were a painter

I could sketch their faces

I’m a poet

 I’ll share their pain

 

Her beauty still discernible

a yesterday away

Her vision blurred

an infection that doesn’t go away

 

lines that tell stories run cheek to grin

slumped shoulders held forward by hopelessness

no child to hold her hand

no man to touch her face

a beggar’s palm seeking alms

 

I hope there is someone who loves her

I can leave her only a pittance and a smile

 

I capture life everyday

I breathe it in

a memory that never fades

stories that go on forever

 

photograph’s lie

someone else’s memory

voyeurs of life behind a lens of illusion

an image better than sight

 

There is no camera in my way

My heart is laid open by reality

My breath a moment

My memories forever

 

Come near to me humanity

Rescue me from unlawful images

I feel your story

I will write it down

 

A sanitized image

Boys laughing,

leaping together in a discarded rice bag

Isn’t god good to the poor?

See their smile!

 

Look closer foolish child of images

Do you not see the bones of their rib cage?

Do you not see the shoddy haircut to expose the lice?

Can you not hear their bellies growl?

Can you not hear them cry one another to sleep?

 

There is no relief from reality for the poet

No joy to circumvent the experienced imagination

I have my own pictures

They all come with stories

They all come with names

 

You say you love them

Tell me their name.