Chanting terror-filled rants,
cries of the insane echo
on early morning streets,
riffling in the detritus
of cans and bottles
on their painful hejira
through the wastes of chaos.
No one answers their incantation,
yet within reach silent trees rise
from cubicles of hardened dirt
to find air and sunlight
above the voices of the lost.
Despite relentless fear
and blanketing depression
my lips move in quiet prayer,
making space for the forgotten
on their lonely pilgrimage,
alien within the crowded city.
Reading of “Space for the Forgotten” with music by David Bowie