Saturday Poem / Face of the poor
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I am the homeless man sitting on the sidewalk, quietly asking you for a dollar, a quarter, anything; however, you ignore me as you always do when you walk past.
I am the woman sitting on the bus with two black eyes, bruises and too many children to feed; whose eyes you cannot meet, whose story you don't want to hear.
I am the crying child torn from the arms of her mother by a government worker due to a misunderstanding you would never understand.
I am the neighbor who is an oddity in the community, whose house is rundown and yard left in disorder; whose family hasn't visited or called in months and seems to have forgotten.
I am the teenager who has made one bad decision after another, who's been given second, third and fourth chances to redeem myself only to end up doing what I do best: make bad decisions and repeatedly fall out of society's grace.
I am the husband who has loved a child as his own, even though she wasn't; the husband, who has been walked on, trampled over and left with only the footprints of pain as a friend.
I am the person who is intellectually disabled shopping at the mall; oh, you know me. I'm the one you avoid coming within 30 feet of because you might "catch" something; little do you know the only thing you would "catch" is my contagious smile and love of life.
All of these are me; the face society so easily forgets, the face society doesn't want to acknowledge, the face society can't or won't try to understand; the face of the poor.
Poor of money
Poor of spirit
Poor of family
Poor of health
Poor of an advocate
Poor of being cared for
Poor of a life worth living
Poor of being loved
Poor of being
Simply ... poor.
First Published September 15, 2012 12:00 am
