$10.00

The fear of poverty is real.
The pain of poverty is real.
The constant dig in your stomach,
As your numbers fall gradually, when you have not even swiped a dollar
The numbing feeling when you lend someone your cable
And he disappears with it
That $10.00, so insignificant
Yet so precious
The every day struggle against taxi rides
Or lunch is no more
Or dinner is no more
Yet you smile
And you pay gladly
Every eye you see

The Tarot Card Lady

Thirty.

She took my hand, and led a prayer.

Then saw the moon in my eyes, a dulled ear
Seconds turned to moments of revelation
the witching hour's clock turned

To me, as I looked earnestly
in dim anticipation.

Pulled out numbers from days far gone,

Counting stars, and grave markers doth fond
counting scars and smiled a chore
for the past, is a reckoned simile forgone

I listened, ears red
and mouth dry for the truth is no further gone

With faith

Lessons learnt and wishes wished
Fond memories and what could be -
Time, did stop for a while

With the suspension
of disbelief,
Gently, she prodded
Words mellow, weighted measures
cold hands and warm shadows
Crowd watched from afar
But there were none

With faith

Cards resonate
Life atoned
Smiling more, she was God
and the universe
she spoke in rhymes
for plain words turned happy pills

resonates in thine mind.

The devil, the advocate
The minion in each card tells a little lullaby
Or maybe just
As I twirled with darkness
I could be no further from the truth

But to believe, makes it truth
and truth be told, and truth told
Makes what truth is left in what we perceive truth to be

But stories told do come true
And fairytale endings promised to you

You smile, renewed.

Ignorance? - Maybe.


But... happiness is worth it too.