evolution • poetry

04| hearing

T H E   U N D E N I A B L E

The applause almost abruptly fades out,
Until I hear excited thumping from a lone corner.
A little boy breaks into a jig while standing on his chair,
'Once more! Once more!'
The audience impatiently awaits the arrival of the next performer,
The singer gives the boy the most genuine smile I'd seen that evening,
And quietly leaves the stage.

The bench is in dire need of a fresh coat of paint,
It looks rather lonely to me.
But a man sitting there is biting off his fingernails,
His son is coming home.
He clumsily adjusts his spectacles from time to time,
His ears perk up at the jagged sound of the tracks.

An old man with no direction,
Without a map, finds himself lodged on a dusty pavement.
He reaches out to grasp his bowl,
But almost immediately retracts his hand,
He lays out a tattered white garment and succumbs to slumber.
An alcoholic sends the bowl flying across the street,
The bowl is empty, the old man continues to sleep.

A young boy nudges his sister,
And sighs at the failing attempts to get her attention.
He didn't mean the words he spewed,
She's clearly upset, probably fuming.
He internally rebukes himself,
The corners of his mouth turn up when she clears her throat.

She's up late at night, with disheveled hair,
At a local diner. Until it's closing time,
She lands up in the tea stall frequented by them.
She made an effort, she wore a goddamn pair of red stilettos,
He had promised to take her out for dinner.
She waits eagerly for the embarrassing ringtone,
But nothing, barring sore feet and dreary surroundings.

A bloodcurdling scream hangs in the air,
The mother holds her baby close to her chest,
Her eyes are closed, facial muscles relaxed,
She shuts her ears when they tell her she is no more.
In the ward right next to theirs,
A baby wails on being ushered into this mad world,
Without consent.

The singer listens to his little fan,
The father engulfs his son in a warm embrace.
The boy was able to make his sister speak,
In a nearby ward was born a new life, a giant leap of faith.
But what about the old man?
I carefully place the change reserved for a bus ride in his bowl.
I know he's tired of not hearing anything,
So I make sure he listens.

I'm leaving this town,
And secretly, I was waiting for your footsteps.
Was, then I heard everything,
Everything that had to be heard.
There is a nip in the air, the plane is about to take off,
You don't need to come to me anymore, but hear me out.

I've heard the hums of approval,
The old man got his coins.
But I can't help but ask,
What about the mother?
The girl should be hearing the embarrassing ringtone,
I should be hearing your footsteps,
But all I can hear is a bloodcurdling scream.