Telling The Come-What-May

and you who have the words must speak
for those of us who stammer with our tongues
tied into swollen knots of mumbles rising red upon
our faces straining from the urgent need to say
what we have done and what has happened
where we have journeyed and to understand
what it may mean

you must speak us into stories so the world
will feel the presence of another minor place
and the events that pass in lifetimes spent outside
the glare of fame or fortune or attention
are shouted loudly in a relief that is finally overflowing
it is you who have the gift and you must give us life
inside your words

for we are forgotten into non-existence by the weariness
of reluctant footsteps grounded newly on a morning
when to rise is not to celebrate but to brace against
the burdens and the calls that stretch us almost
past the place of holding on to hope and comfort
yet knowing that as each day holds a pain too close
another may inspire

so tell us to the world without the treachery of stutter
by listening our truths into your open phrases of
translation that flow like a strike of meaning into
heads and minds removed from feeling warmth out of
ordinary moments in ordinary lives and normal suburbs
full of mortgage houses and desperation as stakeholder in our
pathetic come-what-may

you who have the words must write to tell them all our stories
you must tell of us in shapes and paragraphs of spoken pictures
you must tell of us in all our
come-what-may


© Frank Prem, 2001


Published in The Brown Critique (India) July – October 2001

5 thoughts on “Telling The Come-What-May

  1. .”…….but to brace against
    the burdens and the calls that stretch us almost
    past the place of holding on to hope and comfort yet knowing that as each day holds a pain too close
    another may inspire”

    You talkin’ to ME? 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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