Defiant Dreams

by Melda Koparan

(I)
Hope has passed away today.
The miscarried child of optimism
Struggles no more, and
Cries no more.
Yet, she still causes pain.
Even in her absence,
She dilutes faith, and
She causes the disease of despair
To diffuse within me.
Hope’s silence slashes at my self-esteem,
My self-belief degenerates, as
Dreams are left and lost somewhere
On the cold concrete pavement of dawn’s ether.
Still, no joy courses through my blood.
Without hope, her siblings too are rendered obsolete.

(II)
At Parramatta station,
I sit amid fluoro orange and yellow work vests;
Air that is heavily impregnated with the odour
Of a variety of tobacco brands.
The first rays of sunlight
Penetrate the unprecedented winter chill, and
The commute is no journey.
Familiar faces come and go,
Yet they never converse.
The bus squeaks evermore,
The bus squeaks evermore,
Westward.
Westward,
To the womb of South Western Sydney,
Westward,
To the suburbs of lavish stretches of immortal lawns.
Southward,
Into the heart of ostentatious homes.
Southward,
To rooms of ‘interesting’ children.

(III)
Throughout the day,
The shadow of askance
Drives her dagger through my back
She retreats in triumph.
The remaining remnants
Of my idealism are dissected, and
The corpse is left to lie on the classroom floor.
Brutally swept aside,
By the brooms of nonchalant cleaners
In their afterschool attack.
The misguided grandiose fantasy
Of self-actualisation
Is unwillingly torn from my breast.
I am left listless and naked.
Absently,
I yearn for the fleeting solace of slumber
And pure white soft, soft bed sheets that protect me and
Remain untarnished by the stains of living.

(IV)
As I journey home,
No sweet smiles
Can cure my malady today
No lovely old lady,
Can heal my so very broken heart
With elongated and effusive stories.

Hope has passed away today
The miscarried child of optimism
Struggles no more, and
Cries no more,
Yet she still causes pain.