THE GHETTO INSIDE
Inside the ghetto, the ghetto inside,
they are waiting, huddled in the wet dark,
confused, angry, starving, coat collars turned up,
hats pulled tight, staring through the dim light.
They have been there a long time,
ages it seems, ages and ages behind that wall,
some born there who never left,
some rounded up late in haste,
some there too young, some far too old.
All confined there. All wondering
what will become of them as they watch
us making a life without them, watch us trying
and trying. watch us careful, very careful with that wall.
What, they wonder? How long?
And what if they joined together, they wonder,
and took the wall down, sat in the chairs with
propriety, measured thought, calculation?
What if impulse returned to the pulse,
was set loose, they wonder?
What if they were accepted? Unrestrained?
At least there'd be no more tending to the wall,
to the whole damned place for that matter.
Wouldn't that, alone, be enough to convince, they wonder?
Wouldn't it? The weight of it all, gone all at once?
Getting out, they wonder,
would it be such a crime?
And if so, whose?
Whose crime would it be?
How bad feeling, emotion?
How bad spontaneity?
How bad could it be?
Erich von Hungen is a writer from San Francisco, California. His writing has appeared in The Colorado Quarterly , The Write Launch, Versification, Green Ink Press, Sledgehammer, The Hyacinth Review and others. He has recently launched a collection of poems called "Witness: 100 Poems For Change".