the crowdless man
see him wandering alone,
the crowdless man
he has no group
he has no tribe
he carries his identity in his pocket
his pocket has a hole in it
his story has a hole in it
his tragedy is not a tune you can hum.
His suffering and sacrifice
they have no handles
his persecution has no logo
no shrine, no yardstick.
his joy has no credentials
his observations have no fixed address
there are no awards whatsoever.
His gaze and yearning are way outside the loop
His pilgrimage has lots of holes in it.
See him wandering alone
beaming to himself.
Michael Leunig
