Shadow of a Vision
by Fabrice Poussin
Sitting on the corner, made of limbs strong and square,
the stranger lives, unmoved, permanent fixture there.
Head bowed, eyes closed, ears open, looking straight,
untouched by the passers-by who push him ceaselessly.
Dressed in newest shoes, socks immaculate,
felt hat, and gentle silk shirt, it is hot today.
He prays, silently, heard only of the secret one,
still, unwilling to utter syllable, keeping a heart in check.
Ghost in the machine, his hopes are high and fair,
yet he makes not a move forward, takes not a step.
No one seems aware of him, all always see him,
sitting on the milk crate blue, shell of Wall Street.
An entity most times, a real man but a few hours,
unknown, unwilling, he remains without a friend.
Yet he is, yet he plays his part, even smells and grunts;
at home he sleeps, warm and safe, and well done.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and dozens of other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review and more than 350 other publications.
Pieces Inspired by this Image
'The Flaming Tadpoles'