Today there’s only a trickle
no gush to be found
gone is abundance
and gluttony
replaced by measured drops
each precious in its turn.
So much wealth
divided by so few.
There’s no shame in poverty
but there is no pride either.
No shoes, no food, no shelter
he stands outside
watching others make merry
wondering what he did wrong.
Is life a crap shoot
some win, some lose
that’s all there is?
Or is there something
we do not see
fail to understand?
Turn the page
so we know how
the story ends.
Source of Inspiration 
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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[…] How the Story Ends — Source of Inspiration […]
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Such a heartfelt poem about something I see a lot of in my city. Yesterday it was pouring rain and I locked eyes with a homeless woman and all I could think was “there but for the grace of God go I.”
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There are so many people without homes, or who are desperately poor. I see a man lying half in the gutter, half on the sidewalk. People were just walking past him as if he wasn’t there. I ask the person I was with and he said, “There are shelters for them but most don’t want to do.” This man was unconsciousness, not able to ask for help if he wanted it. We don’t see this in the US so the police or ambulance squad pick them up so us good people don’t have to bother. Sad, but a true story around the world. And I too ask God, why me? So blessed?
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It’s so so sad. I don’t always stop or make eye contact, because sometimes I’m not in the place mentally I can. But I try. I say hello. I once spent an afternoon with a homeless teen artist in Los Vegas, eating lunch and looking at his art. I kept thinking, “you are my boy too.” I wished I could have taken him home with me. His story, while not uncommon, was heartbreaking.
I also had a homeless woman and her young child try and scam me, but I looked her in the eye and told her there is help. I offered to drive them to a battered woman’s shelter and then she admitted the fraud. Her small child was in on it, repeating the line she gave him. I wasn’t angry-my heart broke she felt so felt this was her only option. I gave her son the snacks in my purse and hugged her. It was all I could do.
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It was enough, Bridgette, and I am sure more than you realize. hugs, pat
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[…] https://patcegan.wordpress.com/2015/06/28/how-the-story-ends-3/ […]
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Reblogged this on georgeforfun.
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Reblogged this on Spiritual challenges .
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