A cup of coffee
warmed him this morning,

not so much his body,
but his soul.

A kind and generous passerby
had shown some warmth,
amid the cold.

But that had been this morning.

The coins have since been spent.

So once again,
he extends his hands,
receiving change
and pocket lint.

Sometimes there's folding money.

Most times,
there's only a frown

at the "dirty, useless S-O-B"
that defiles the streets of town.

I saw him at the Hardware store.
Eyes drawn back into their sockets;
I stopped and chatted for a bit.
He stuffed my five into his pocket.

I wish I could have offered more,
but my ten is all that stands
between having food for me and mine
and holding out my hands.

I watched awhile,
as many others
passed him by without a stall.
It seemed he was invisible...
or did not exist at all.

They say there's a chance of snow tonight.

They haven't seen or heard his need.

I watch them leave the Hardware Store...
having bought the birds some seed.

He said his name was Peter.
He served in Vietnam.

Yes, he has some habits.

No, he doesn't give a damn.

Peter fell on hard times.
Now he sleeps in snow and rain.

That first step up is a hard climb,
when you're halfway down the drain.

The mornings are when he makes his rounds.

That's when he comes out and greets
those who walk upon the pavement,
with souls too pure to touch the streets.

It's not the fact
that he was homeless
or on drugs that bothers me.
What disturbs me
about his presence
is the invisibility.

The absence of his presence.
The absence of the poor.
The absence of the "ugly ones"
so easy to ignore.

Those in desperation.
Those who often turn to crime.
From lack of hope and inspiration.
From lack of someone taking time.

Someone
is seeking comfort.
Someone is pleading
a silent plea.
Be it drugs or acts of violence...
They cry out,
"Look at me!"

Someone
is showing no kind of sign.
No show of discontent.
Its kept inside their heart and mind
and never finds a vent.

Oh, they try to keep it hidden
'neath the armor that they wear.

But inside, its cold and lonely,
and no one seems to care.

We put up walls around ourselves
to hide the weaknesses, fears and doubts.

Walls meant to keep others from looking in
But block us from seeing out.

We become unable to see beyond ourselves.
Deaf to the sound
of another's calls.
Too isolated now
to hear the howls
of others buried
beneath their walls.

Insecurity is a tough battle.
Oh! How we masquerade the blows!

From the "clown"
within the classroom
to the "hard core"
on Death Row.

Oh! How hard we try to hide
the weakness that we feel.

We play pretend
right to the end...
Then wish that we'd been real.

***