Image: Supplied through the prison contemplative fellowship
By Jesse Mawson
“The Man Bent Over”
“How are you going?” I ask
A gasp. A pause. A slow breath in.
lips lightly tremoring
you can see the vulnerability in his eyes alone
Tears have not come yet
But you know they will arrive soon
Hands clasped or veiling his face
Prostrated and bent.
As if a light thread is holding him up
One last time before
Slipping to the ground
He begins to speak
And his words unravel him
Reaping the harvest finally
Speech-less or speech-full
Either way the steady stream approaches
And he sits bent
For he does not know his future
And there is no light to show him the way.
You feel that there is not much to be said
Not much has been said
A gasp again with a sigh of relief.
Nothing has changed
The doom might still ride forward
Into the night
Something has changed
Maybe peace, maybe resolve, maybe courage
“Thank you” he says.
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