Behind Every Window
by Michael Romani

Behind every tainted window
There's a tattered story
Lessons in shattered love
And sometimes of glory
New York's inner city blues
Played out in a myriad of hues
On streets filled with passion
But less than enough compassion
To hold the needed answers
For children stricken with cancer
Despite the mothers' mournful prayers
Begging for mercy from a priest who stares
Standing there in moribund silence
His mortal soul lost in its internal violence

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Emotionally clouded; impressed on an empty page
Set up in motion to play our roles on a stage
It's an irrepressible path of mortifying drama
Kicked to the curb by tie wearing Brahmas 
Where succulent morsels include a filet of souls
Chastened into the unlikely and unedifying roles
The priest and the mother pray for sacred guidance
Holding steady to this path of faith's reliance
While toxic fumes filter into air pollution
The stealthy streetfighter stalks out his solution
There was one a way to meander back homeward
Now the only way is to move on to forward
We slip on cosmic peels lonely into the night
Our only prayer?  That we somehow get this right

(c) May 20, 2017  Michael Romani

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