The Elephant in the Room; Original Poetry by Thomas Martin Saturday


elephant-in-the-room

I sauntered in as I usually do,
noting the group talking.

Again it was about everything
other than what I’m here for.

Restricted and confined,
I cannot so much as give
a tickle on a cheek
with my trunk,
nor a wink of the eye.

I’d like to throw a log
or hard gravel at them
yet it would do no good
as I am not afforded the joy of it.

Nothing can stir them,
even trumpets at the gates of hell
have not through the eons of time,
roused them from
their complacencies,
ability for denial;
fantasy.

For I’m that thing that lurks
in the pit of stomachs crying out
with no voice
for truth telling,
justice,
received sweetly with birdsong.

They talk on under the illusion
they who know how
to free the truth
and cry out for justice
without pain at the revealing.

Once I saw they already
were blind and deaf
to the sight and sound of justice,
uninterested in the courage
required to deliver it ,
I settled in for a long siege.

There are those who have the courage,
can see and hear,
they do not require me.

Who would believe it?
an elephant as plain as day,
in a room full of them
and still, they know not.

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One thought on “The Elephant in the Room; Original Poetry by Thomas Martin Saturday

  1. For I’m that thing that lurks
    in the pit of stomachs crying out
    with no voice
    for truth telling

    Who would believe it?
    an elephant as plain as day,
    in a room full of them
    and still, they know not.

    Love these two verses.. absolutely brilliant writing.

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