What will become of us…?
They’re on the move
From the romantic hitchhike to the bus terminus
They’re on the move – dodging the traffic
to cross the busy thoroughfare
They’re on the move with rush-hour sidesteps
and train doors closing
Strangers in the day and the semi-night
Eye meets eye from time to time
And turning away it wonders why…
Some long to engage their speaking faculty
Others speak when not spoken to
It takes a lot
But some – come to that place
Where they will make their complaint
embarrassingly
Some see it their duty to give that word of direction
Some fight to do so with interruption and
A fuller explanation
to the lost or stranded holiday-maker
Making their holiday difficult for themselves
But now crowds on-hold staying at home
Only a memory – remembered
now a frantic search:
‘What will become of us?’
Jobs gone – future put on-hold
‘What will become of us’ –
as they ease down into the sofa again
Flick through the phone
Flick through the channels
Rising and falling in human mood-swings
Trying to stop time
But it won’t stand still
The inner-life withdraws
To the catacombs of self
Purpose found in identity’s home
No more activity in outward display
No more making money
Identity slipping away
