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Image for the poem The Traffic Hermit

The Traffic Hermit

Besieged by schoolboy stones, recalled
Ricochet of El Alamein artillery,
Desert rats wearing ties and trainers.

The Gods of his everyday mourning
Sweep shrapnel beside road signs,
Each destination arrives at solitude.

Trams drudge along Gdansk streets, as
Vodka dribbling from mouth to (bottle)neck,
Shipyard cranes genuflect to hunchbacked sky.

Placed his furniture foetus into a pram
Cradled solace in petrichor and petrol fumes,
In morning mist, swinging incense,
He broke bread to feed birds and himself.

Jozef raised his throat to the wind
And sang for the final time,
He thought the lights of a truck
Were the weeping eyes of Christ.
Written by Strangeways_Rob
Published
Author's Note
ERULGCT 166. Jozef Stawinoga was a popular figure to the people of Wolverhampton, England. He lived in a tent on a grassed island in the middle of the Ring Road for well over 40 years until his death in 2007. Local Sikhs and Hindus even began to honour him as a Holy Man. The Polish national, Gdansk native, fought against the Soviet Invasion of Poland in 1939 & became an English POW in Egypt. Moved to England in the late 1940s. He held various jobs, before eventually putting all his possessions in a pram and taking up residence on the Ring Road. Found dead in his tent at 86.
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