Destitute Townships Wave A Flag Poem by Thomas Buckley

destitute townships wave a flag
of white, surrendering to sorrow
as through the mud, they drag
their feet to a new tomorrow
slung over their shoulders, a bag
tied to a stick which was borrowed
from a tree of the forest that sags
under the weight of the sky

canopy leaves falling down
forty feet from a tree-top home
foliage falling, colors all around
no man or woman left alone
to find shelter from rain, on ground
in the burial place of a bone
left long ago by dogs, bloodhounds
to find when clock hands froze

tick-tocking reverberates upon
the silent morning air; clock hands
sliding along with each minute gone
as townsfolk walk by the newsstands
in the breeze of a new summer dawn
over cobble-stone streets; demands
from slave owners teaching their spawn;
learning to live on their own