From The Sewer

From TSade

Left for dead at the bottom of a pit,
Staring up at the bright grill of freedom.
Unable to move from ropes wrapped too tightly,
Unable to cry out from the ball gag in my mouth.
Not even a chain to rattle for help.
Forced to silently watch those above.
Walking to their jobs, to the train, to their lives.
Never once looking down at the simple rusted grill.
To the helpless body sitting in a foot of water.
Twisting and turning, only faint splashes rise up.
Drowned out by the rapping of feet
And the pressure of their lives.
Not mine.
Tears roll down my cheeks,
Splashing against bare breasts and shivering skin.
To drop into the cool water of the storm drain.
And I am alone, with thousands passing above.
The ache in my jaw is growing hotter
My need to swallow or even just close my lips
Denied by the hard, unforgiving plastic.
And all those people,
Not one looked down.
A day passed as the sun speared down.
Blinding me, but I still can't look away.
Can't tear my eyes away from the clicking heels
And swirling skirts.
Begging for one to look down.
Then one does.
One in a million passing by.
His bright blue eyes locking on mine,
Compassion almost filling my tomb.
But the pressures push him on
Shoving him aside with others too impatient.
And he is gone.
My only hope is pushed away.
Because the walk light turned white.

t'Sade
2004-10-27