Lonely Windows

Posted: 27/12/2007 in Uncategorized
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For those of you who do not know me, I have become a photography nut, and I write a little on the side as well. A couple of months ago I went down to that city by the bay known as Portland to take some urban photos. I was actually looking for some buildings to use in one of my books, Maine After Midnight, which is just about finished.

But as I wandered around looking for just the right shot, I found myself in one of the little cramped in neighborhoods with a bunch of multi story brick and concrete shells. It seemed to be some sort of low income or elderly housing development. I’m not really sure which it was, or maybe it was both. But the memory of that day popped into my mind this morning out of the blue, and gave birth to this poem, Lonely Windows.

I recall strongly the feelings of that day as I looked around the neighborhood. A series of cold, empty faces in the form of darkened windows against the fading autumn sky. Looking up the street it seemed as if the pavement ran on until it met the cold gray sky, with almost no change in the color of the two. But as I stood there looking around on the sidewalk, a faint, almost imperceptible sound came floating through the air to gain my attention.

Looking round for its source, I found it came from a third floor window across the street. Framed within that dark empty window was the face of an elderly woman, tapping on the pane for my attention. I smiled and waved up at her, and she smiled back, seemingly grateful that a stranger paid attention to her, sharing her loneliness.

And then it dawned on me how familiar the scene was to me. I realized that the scene had been played out before. I remembered from school days the pictures in some of the magazines decrying the horrors of Communism. Photos were displayed showing much the same scene in many of the Nations of the Communist Block community. Row after row of empty, spiritless homes built of cold, naked brick and steel to house the masses. I realized that this is what we, as a Nation, are slowly becoming.

A Nation of decreasing wealth and power, we resort to the welfare system to take care of the less fortunate. The old and infirm. The poor and uneducated. Those people who cannot fend for themselves. There once was a time when families cared for family. When parents became too old to stay on their own, their children would take them in and care for them. If a sibling was down and out, the family would lend a hand. If a family couldn’t afford oil to keep warm, relatives would pitch in and see that they got the needed fuel.

But that has all changed today. Our dependency on the government welfare state is slowly eating away at the core of our Nations spirit. Almost beyond our grasp, beyond our knowledge, we are becoming just another slave to the Communist Block.

Lonely Windows
©2007 D.L. Soucy

I was walking along the streets one day,
Just wandering around, casually making my way,
Along the streets of that city by the bay.

I looked up, and looked all around
At all the windows above the ground,
And heard amongst the silence, a tiniest sound.

But what was the noise amongst the buildings
That caught my attention with the song it sings,
And what messages the wind brings.

Vacant windows, staring back at me.
Empty black holes in that city by the sea.
But the picture, I began to see,

Was not of empty vacant holes, but frames of a portrait,
Hung upon the buildings, hanging square and straight,
Each hole displaying a home that sits, just to wait.

Each with a person, all alone. Sitting. Waiting.
Each with a soul. Patiently listening. Hearing.
Waiting for the last song the night bird will sing.

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