Homeless Compassion
By RaInAnGeL
He was there. His dark skin, Grey hair, Standing inside the church steps. I felt his eyes follow me, The food in my hand. And I saw his worn shoes approach me--- The Black Homeless Man. 'Ma'am, pardon me, Do you have any cash?' Fear, shame, bravery in his eyes, Reaching for my bleeding heart. Three dollar bills, Crisp in my warm jean pocket. I smiled sweetly from my soul, Into his stomach. From across the street, I watched him buy a little food. Something to devour, So he can live. And he never chose how to live, Never wanted to be a poor man. But still he remains on the church steps, 'The lowest of mankind.' You have never lived his life, Never traveled in his torn clothes. But you judge, And you criticize, In a world lacking love. Written April 2nd, 2002 © on Apr 02 2002 04:30 AM PST 18 • 0 • 9
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"He was there...."