Poetry: Damaged by the Coin by Mark McConville

Damaged by the Coin

Love is supposed to bind us

In a world eating its own skin

Dreams are supposed to take us on a safari

Through idyllic moments.

 

The dreams feel heavy

Weighing down the heads of seekers

Who scratch and bite for salvation

They do not know anything more.

 

Their hands are rough

Their minds are shot

They cannot afford to feel

As they count loose change to feed themselves

And the children who don’t deserve such deprivation

They deserve the rich sunshine, and even common bread.

 

They walk through snow in which seems like a winter wonderland

Snow globes are smashed like confetti and snowmen with sinister eyes

Look shifty and alive, more alive than the penniless and those who preach to god

For forgiveness.

 

Beaten down,

They get up and sing a song for unity

Every man has a lyric

Every woman has a chime

They all cut their teeth on the circuit

Of broken glory.

 

This is not a place for the devil

But there are many bad seeds here

Stealing and wiping the smiles off the faces

Of innocent children

Who only want to feel effects of a coal fire

In this frozen landscape.

 

They’re told to move

And they do

Creating a collage of grey

Beards and blocked noses

Men and woman ushering their children

Into the middle point

Where all the warmth is.

 

This may be deprivation

Coursing through the gutters and the veins

It may be the last call for justice by these people

In a city damaged by the coin.

 

And their innocence has brought them together

For the first time.

Mark McConville is a freelance music journalist who has written for many online and print publications. His poetry chapbook Lyrics From The Chamber is available now.