Fear Streets

The old street man looks at me I wonder what does he see? Does he wish that he could die? With curiosity in his eyes, as I See hunger, fear and pain, And wonder what does he gain? What drove him here and I wonder What tore his world asunder? Then I wonder what does he see in mine? I turn and what do I find, The old bag lady looks at me And I wonder what does she see? Then I think what has she done? She spits, resenting anyone Who has more than she does. Her sadness, like she never was Her very being a cosmic blunder So I look at her and wonder Why no one will raise a hand, Who hurt her so and If she’s still sound of mind, What she hides behind Her angry spiteful eyes, That no longer believe the lies. The child laying in the street With no respite for her tired feet, Knowing there is no safety in the city, Looks up at me, seemingly for pity. I wonder in my heart how this came to be I need to know why it is that she Has come to the horrid place of fear And who has caused her to be here? So tiny and fragile lying on the sand, She reaches up her hand and, Thinking she asks, I lean, she steals. I wonder when she does what she feels To take these horrid chances with their lives. What do they seek and what drives Them here where life is hard and purpose defeats Them out here into these streets Of fear and pain? Who brings them? With moldy clothes and ragged hem. This place to be victim, to victimize each other? Are they just a problem or my brother? Can they be brought back in? Do I try to change them without sin? Do they want it, deserve to be? Or is this the only way to be free? Written November 19th, 1999 © on Jun 23 2001 04:28 PM PST   0 • 1