Forgotten

Forgotten men,
forgotten women, everyone
in between, sitting lonely
in homes and not-quite homes,
in rooms paid for weekly, shut in
and alone, sitting
unaccompanied in dark and naked rooms
and waiting to die or for something else
to happen suddenly and take them
off or out of the silence of the earth;
forgotten men and women and everyone
in between sit and stare lonely in their
shabby clothes and think of those gone first,
those lucky few and then many who went earlier
as a trickle and then a flood of relief and sorrow
and wonder that their own lot is to stay —
old homes becoming new or being knocked down
as they are, as they are; old bodies becoming
fragile as destroyed leaves on a sidewalk
with their bones showing through and them saying
they were younger once, they were stronger once,
they were handsome and strode strongly once
across their stages; and now
they sit weakly alone in rooms and wait for
the knock on the door, the hand on their shoulder,
the sheet being lifted and resting gently
over their faces before they are taken away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T