by Steve Tanham
Still Vermin
—
I am just like you
But hungry
My stomach longs
For days of food
A taste that through
My numbing mind
I sometimes still remember
—
I am just like you
But dirty
My oily, spotted flesh
Smells rank and damp
From days afloat
With no warm breeze to sing to me
Just the icy spray from salted sea
—
I am just like you
But cold
My garments, insufficient
On the day I left, with hope,
Now cling like a thing
To which you would attach
The label of derision
—
I am just like you
But childless
From my frozen hands
The locks of young blonde hair
Were torn by those whose
Eyes could look no more
On frothing foam
—
I am just like you
But simpler
You do not know
What it is like
To live within a hungry hole
And shelter from the light
That gives the hunter sight
—
I am just like you
But weaponless
We fled from guns
From guns that in the mind
Protect and guard your kind
And bombs that split and thus divide
Their rending of the limbs by which we hide
—
And in the end
I am not enough like you.
And till my dirty words can touch your heart
As though my pain were yours
You can never be just like me
And, homeless, cold, and out there
I will forever be
Still vermin
——-
©Copyright Stephen Tanham 2016
Sun in Gemini 
Reblogged this on Daily Echo.
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Your words are like silky razors, cutting away the rubbish, leaving the truth exposed. A terrible word ‘vermin’. Nothing deserves that kind of label, we are all God’s creatures after all…
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Thank you Jaye.
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Thank you Jaye. I cried writing it…
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You’ve certainly touched my heart, Steve. What a stunning piece of work!
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Thank you, Darren.
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Reblogged this on THE PEN AND THE PAGE and commented:
A stunning, provocative & thought-provoking piece by Steve Tanham…
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Darren, Thank you so much for the reblog of this most sad and provoking piece. I really makes me think.
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We have a “candidate” named Vermin Supreme. Otherwise, that’s a terrible way to talk about seagulls. We call them “hoovers” because they vacuum up anything left along the shore and are not above stealing the dinner off your grill 🙂
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Thank you Marilyn. It’s not entirely about seagulls, of course …
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This is a by-comment, but here goes. My son was in the Army, but stationed on a boat (not a ship, Mom). During training at an east coast base, he learned that the Army painted seagulls on thte docks. A seagull will not soil another seagull – it kept the docks quite clean too. Honestly, the little gems one picks up along the way.
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Beautifully penned, Steve. Every wild thing deserves its place under the sun.
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Thank you, Eliza. It can be read on two levels, of course; and was written to reflect the plight of the refugees fleeing Syria, too.
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Reblogged this on Stuart France.
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