evening of the ox
sunday was almost out of battery,
the last rays of sunlight wilting.
in the nearby park,
washed in the scents of sweat and gucci,
men, women and their secrets
ambled about in autumn light.
the perky wind blowing
fallen brown leaves in dusty circles.
i sat down to weigh some plots,
hoping to stumble on to the tip
of my unborn bollywood script,
when i saw an old man trudge by,
frail to the point of breaking.
on his lips was the ghost of smile,
of a hundred victories won,
and the scars of many battles.
he looked educated,
a man who was someone,
but there was an air of suffering
wrapped around him.
his shoes were worn out.
older than what he'd have allowed.
but shoes they were,
and leather was thicker than skin.
strange questions came knocking
at my door of curiosity.
was he driven away from home?
did his children give up on him?
was he unstable?
or has he chosen to walk away,
choosing to vanish into the sunset?
the answer could have been any,
and maybe all of them
were perfect definitions.
i could sense he had a story,
and i bet he'd have much to share,
but i let him be in his loneliness.
who was i to disturb and intrude
into whatever little pleased him.
there was nothing but a smile i could offer,
maybe some cheerful conversation,
or even some money if he'd accept.
he then turned and looked through me.
possibly he thought i saw him,
invisible as he was to most others.
in his eyes i saw twinkles and sparkles,
and if they were tears, i couldn't tell.
maybe they were,
daily residue of his private fight
with medical demons.
he hovered around for a bit,
much like the last beam of light
caught between day and night,
and he strolled away into shadows.
his self respect not allowing
any pity or mercy for himself.
i may never see him again,
and he may never see another day,
but at that moment,
i lived a bit inside the souls
of many lives around us.
that man was someone's father,
husband, son, or brother,
and i am sure he had people
like moons revolving around him.
people who depended on him
and his will to struggle for all.
but this evening, i didn't see a man,
i didn't see a retired old gentleman.
i saw someone at his dusk.
defeated by time.
i saw an ox.
his purpose fulfilled,
weak to the bones,
empty of strength,
cast out on to the roads,
chewing the gum of memories
wandering among dried leaves
and waiting to be dissolved
into the swirling dust.
I especialy love the comparison of loved ones to the moons around us. Beautiful write here!
Brilliant.your explanation of possibilities.Maybe he was just an old man enjoying an evening stroll no longer needing to impress anyone
Another gem of a write Pat...so many stark images have been brought out in this thought provoking piece...and there are many memorable lines too...Bookmarked
very nice and thought provoking. really enjoyed this write.