Ode to Homeless

Ode to Homeless By Laijon Liu 20120120 O1 O tell God, Who is the bravest among men? A wayfaring stranger despised by passerby Men and stock are born in house and stable But he’s resurrected after his roof collapse Family and friends so all become strangers Streets and parks suddenly turn to badlands Winter freezing winds blow his heart cold Sizzling summer heat burns up his thirst O2 Where he should go? Jordan? A Shelter? Would he find his father and mother there? Crowd faces, his usual sitting spot, all new Only his old past is lost and he can’t forget In rainy night, the sky spits on his head In sunny day, he begs every stone face To be himself, he must practice give up Let the world win, watching people pass O3 Sitting in a corner he bows his head Like a convict receiving his trial in court His crime is that he lost his job and home out of love and hope, no money to pay his debt He is drowned in Vodka, his stomach like a sea A non-stop smoker, cigarette can’t kill He refuse to quit, coz he’s never addicted Only drink and smoke soothe his sense O4 Time and silence are his sentence In this wall-less jail he tries to rejoin our society No name or inmate number required And he’s liberal to roam anywhere Life is a journey, but he can’t find rest Living is a match; he’s preset to lose Mountains and rivers test his lonely faith Bar light and catering noise tempt his appetite O5 He is a traveling monk, a living Buddha Hunger and thirst are his meditation Thru deaf ears and rejections he observes Zen At the marketplace he lives out a hermit life Shaking his coin cup, he offers a sincere prayer Facing apathetic crowd he puts on Golden Globe act No, he doesn’t want to be rich and famous His paperboard says [Money for food n drink] O6 Dress is his identity, so he picked original brand Thru rains and winds he endures his natural scent Shower and soap cannot match the fresh breeze Sympathy and acceptance are not triggered by sense Seasons pass, he experiences warmth and cold On his pilgrim road there’s no sickness, toil or danger People immigrate, mammals and birds migrate Yet, wherever he goes, he can’t find a satisfying habitat O7 Oh, where is his house for his lonely unrest soul? In his ransacked temple he silently sits and recalls Childhood nightmares and long lost wife and love His failure, promise and his glory white bubble days Good life like a rushing train in dream crashed in past Typhoon, earthquake, battle cries and his child’s face Like a rolling avalanche lands on his wrinkled forehead He was too slow to react, nothing he could do to survive O8 His hands were broken and his heart pierced Yet, he was reborn after his house vanished He saw a life after death and his wound never healed On the crossroad he begs for money and pity He doesn’t have a name; he could be you and me And in the people crowded cities He receives God’s enlightenment To try to adapt and fall asleep on this strange golden field