we see them everywhere as we walk through our urban haunts
...lying on subway grates...
...sleeping wherever they passed out the night before
...sitting dejected
...head down
...hand out
...garbage bag rain gear
...senseless ranting at unseen foes...
...a styrofoam coffee cup with hand written cardboard sign...
“help...please”
do we avert our eyes and hurry by
or pay a buck to ease our guilt?
why feel guilty? It’s not our problem...
...we have a job
...we contribute to society
...we’re not addicted
we would never let ourselves become that pathetic
want to know something?
When they were where we are...
neither did they
why avert our eyes?
for the same reasons we disappear off the radar
when close friends get very, very ill...
why...when they need us the most?
...because...
that could be us...
...without a home
...without love
...without dignity
it’s hard to imagine
wearing the same clothes day after day
alone in your head...your world
...oblivious to passers-by
your rancid smell of sweat...urine...alcohol...
sleeping night after night
...on the ground
...in doorways
...in squalor
people crossing the street rather then taking the chance of
...catching your eye
asking complete strangers for
...a coffee
...your next meal
...surreptitiously, for your next drink...your next high
all our world’s goods contained in one rickety shopping cart
sleeping outside in all kinds of weather
getting rousted and packing up our life...pushing it to the
...next free meal
...next handout
...next park bench
our world is one where
...people steal their third-owner shoes
...young thugs beat them for sport
...they are impugned...molested at will
too weak to fight back
too tired to care
urinating in dark alleys
where do you s**t when the streets are your home?
at what point did they come to the place
where they couldn’t take
...another loss
...another disappointment
...another failure
...another “stick in the eye”
at what point did they say “F**k it” and walk away from
...everything they own
...every one they love
...their so-called life?
at what point did dreams...begin dread?
oh, God!...there’s another one up ahead!
Maybe he won’t notice me
...but it's too late...
"spare some change?” he begs
“sorry...I’m tapped!” I say as I clutch the change in my pocket
he hears the same story a hundred times a day
“God bless you” he says.
I don’t feel blessed
I feel guilty!
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Comments: 4
thanks for sharing, Steve!