I was just staggering in the gate
with two heavy bags
from an exhausting week’s conference
when the conman and his accomplice
got me right at my own front door –
I’m mortified by the memory –
they could replace my missing roof tiles
in a moment, look, the ladder’s
already up there, the accomplice
is halfway up, now he’s already
on the roof in his plimsolls, now he's
shaking the chimney-stack, look, it's loose
.... no cash? oh,
they’d drive me to the nearest cash-point…
well, you can guess the rest –
anything for a quiet life…
as I dozed off that evening,
flushed with anger, blushed with stupidity,
too tired to crawl to bed,
realizing that conmen have
all the skills of hypnotists,
enlightenment struck:
the next morning, I would wake up
150 dollars the poorer but morning-fresh;
‘they’ would wake up with the urgent need
to seek another mug each day.
And I realised that sublime, ruthless,
beautiful, tragic, comic, eternal justice
is - to be – to live it through as -
just as we are; right now…
heroes or victims of ourself
.
I like the way you tell it, Michael, with the generic terming ('conman' and 'accomplice') the pace, and the sense of immediacy. It sounds like a true story, though, and if this is the case you have my every sympathy. I'm glad that you seem to have recovered so well from it, but I don't think you should just let the villains off with a depiction of their crime-eaten life. This is to go easy on them. Anyway, here's hoping you never suffer such an episode again (if it really happened to you) . Regards.
and you too, Earnest, will awake tomorrow, dairy-fresh, as your judicious, charitable, knowledgeable self, while I continue to learn from your helpful comments.
Teaching in parables. Seldom a scolding tone from you Michael, but always a lesson. Rusty
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think you're absolutely right. You can wake up and face yourself in the mirror and know you're a good person. Can they? Very good. Sincerely, Mary