The Street Performer


She is a street performer
She is a woman of all times
And all places

She is inconsequential,
Invisible, mute
A statue, a stone
With a beating heart.

She begs for alms
For mercy
For a glance
A second of your time

She is your mother
Your widow forsaken
Your lover forgotten
A woman like any other

She waits in hope
Prays that you will see
What you want to forget
As she remembers

About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
This entry was posted in Life, Pandora's box, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to The Street Performer

  1. PapaBear says:

    How easily do we sometimes lose sight of people in our lives. Be they relations or merely acquaintances, they deserve at least recognition as fellow humans. Great post, Emm.


  2. Tu regardes, UnElephant regarde, chacun regarde.
    Mais tu vois quelque chose different.
    Tu es vraiment un génie.


  3. arjaybe says:

    At least there’s someone who can see her.



    • emmylgant says:

      Thank you Jim. Yes, I saw her. She rose shortly after I took the picture and I had the opportunity to tell her how moving her still performance was for me. She smiled with half closed lids encrusted with plastered make-up and thanked me. It was like reaching through time.


  4. john zande says:

    That just made me think of how many stories we loose.


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