Beggar at the Gate

By Brandon Marlon

Enriched by poverty with treasure chests of insight,

he welters in street dust, sighing with the breeze,

draped in filthy rags of yesteryear,

nursing soul wounds, chewing on a stale fig,

struggling daily to polish the gem of faith.

 

Wincing under the bright forenoon sun,

he blenches at the shrill noise of frenzied masses,

men in jubbahs and abayas, smelling of musk,

women in hijabs, their hair scented with pomade,

passing beneath the imposing arched entrance

along a great road strewn with rubbish and dung.

 

By midday he smells the odor of dyes

pungent and wafting from tanyard vats,

and listens to the chitter of kestrels

loitering like sentries atop fortified walls.

 

Spotting the pallor of a gibbous moon

arising at twilight to announce the night,

and despite feeling like a phantom,

he holds out a hand and bulges his eyes,

hopeful for a late coin or kind word.

 

Brandon Marlon is a writer from Ottawa, Canada. He received his B.A. (Hon.) in Drama and English from the University of Toronto and his M.A. in English from the University of Victoria. His poetry has been published variously in Canada, the U.S., England, Greece, Romania, Israel, and India. www.brandonmarlon.com.