Into Exile

Into Exile

A Poem by toritto


 I walk the old streets and realize

they tore down the Endicott theater

to put up a savings bank

in the same space where poppa and I

saw “Blood and Sand”

 

and Fat Tony’s luncheonette

where we’d stroll for a Mello-roll 

or a Charlotte-Russe after;

and poppa is long gone

as well as my nine year old self

never to be seen again

 

which is why I admire those poets

who whilst in exile

revealed the transience of life 

so much better than I,

recalling in deep melancholy

what was, but is no longer seen;


flying cranes o’re the forbidden city

the gates of Kiev or Krakow or Jerusalem

a street in Homs or onion domes

the palace of Kamehameha 

they would never see again

walking on a warm Summer evening.



© 2013 toritto



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T...you nailed this one. A beautiful poem...thanx for sharing...bobc

Posted 4 Years Ago


toritto

4 Years Ago

bobc - and thank you, as always, for reading and taking the time to comment.
regards.

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Added on August 25, 2013
Last Updated on August 25, 2013
Tags: snowden, Syria, exile, melancholy