http://www.flickr.com/photos/neetss/
http://www.facebook.com/neets.stewart
http://www.musterpoint.org
http://www.projectslogan.com
http://www.gopetition.com/petitions/save-the-new-contemporary-art-centre-in-union-terrace-gardens.html
http://www.flickr.com/photos/neetss/
http://www.facebook.com/neets.stewart
http://www.musterpoint.org
http://www.projectslogan.com
http://www.gopetition.com/petitions/save-the-new-contemporary-art-centre-in-union-terrace-gardens.html
From the window I saw an older lady pass by.
.
.
How do we know she is different?
Her eyes don’t lift from the left of the pavement.
She doesn’t seem to walk as much as shuffel
Her hair is dirty.
I think about drawing
Most people who have passed have made me think of drawing.
.
.
Time passes and she returns
But this time shouts proceed her
Boys have found her.
.
.
How do they know she is different?
Everyone is scared of them.
How do they know she is easy game.
Do they know she is vulnerable?
Do they know what that means?
.
.
There are three of them
Passing slightly off to the back and left of her
Walking on the road and the pavement
The tall one closest to her
Says things to her loudly
They jeer
.
.
To her they can act like this
She is different
She is alone
.
.
I boil
I scramble for my keys
They are passing
I get to the door
But it’s not mine so I struggle with the unfamiliar lock
Giving up I leave it
.
.
I get out but they are gone
I stand in the middle of the road
And watch them throw the last taunts
As the boys head left and she goes on.
.
.
She did not lift her head to them
She did not interact
Did she leave her world for them
Or shuffle oblivious and unaware
.
Will I be her one day?
.
.
I leave my scowl on the tarmac
And strutt back in
On closing the door I remember
No prayer left me as I left it.
Removing my shoes
I feel shame on my pride
And wish it could come off as easily.
