Tag Archives: didn’t want to hurt

Fellow Travelers

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

The older Oriental woman
was not nice.
The younger men
that were of European descent
accompanied him.
Actually, they never
left his side.

He thought if he
went far enough away,
they would go away.
But they did not.

Even when he was dying
they frightened him.
That was why he moved
far away—to New York.
Perhaps all his problems
would go away.
But they did not.

He told us this at the last.
He didn’t want to hurt us.

When you were little
The voices in your head
were telling you things.

I made a mental note,
“Something is wrong.”


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry