She was sad, for the homeless

When the rains came
Late Tuesday evening,
Only seven-years-old and worried.
She said to me,
Before scurrying off to waste time
In the bathroom going “potty,”
Our little night person,
“I’m sad,
I’m sad, I’m sad.”
And I told her to wait until
Morning to tell me her sadness
Believing she was simply resistant to the slumber, as was often the case.
Then I told her to pray,
And so would I.
After she said more.
As I prayed I questioned my prayer,
Even more, as she left the room and came back several minutes thereafter.
I could not let go.
Conversation ceased,
She dipped into sleep,
The room fell silent
Save for the downpour
And my loudly pounding heart.
My mind raced across time, the last year in particular,
Coming down the steps off the train
Into the heaping heavy impoverished disinterest of Harlem overhangs in the unforgiving Winter.
How could I really blame Nature?
I shamelessly thought,
These people didn’t seem to care,
They polluted, begged tirelessly, yet seemed able,
How were they contributing?
But then a little voice inside
Came back to her words.
“I’m sad for the people with no homes out there in the rain.”
I instantly felt ashamed of my disconnection
With humanity.
I did not know these gatherers
Beneath the overhangs,
Though sometimes one would approach me as if he knew I,
Then retreat even-tempered.
The next day as I watched them
Sharing stories and food,
Connecting closely in tight circles,
Rarely looking up,
I felt sad too,
For humanity.
That it has to come to this in society,
And I suppose that’s true because we are his creator,
Though I’m not sure we have done too many any great favor.

~

Relephant read:

Commuter. {Poem}

~

Author: Joseph J. Treubig

Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock

Photo: flickr