Orphans (Poetry)

There are no ties now — cut off —
excommunicated — the links of blood and trust
dried to the crust of memory.

Left in a neutral state of unbelonging
and constantly adrift —
the thought connections brought down
in a life and death storm
like telephone wires dangling
ends twitching in a passing wind.

All sense of self — the person
centred somewhere underneath the flesh —
is fading — knowing — fearing
there is no one out there keeping them in mind —
no caring thought to focus — worry —
love them to a weight of being grounded —
affirming their existence — making real
the distant conversation.

And so they float — identities degraded —
lessened by default
and doubting every aspect of a name
that labels them — dismissive —
fails to comprehend the gap inside
the yawning deep divide
and no way to measure
each widening degree
of what continues to be lost.