Bus Stop Man

He must be several hundred feet off, but He weighs on me already

Do I head the other way? I only say that because

He’s homeless.

What a selfish Trick, huh?

Ain’t he the same as me?

My legs begin their walk North, because my conscience wouldn’t have it

the other way.

Timid souls touch.

Whose eyes are more scared? Mine or His?

Now the tough part.

“How’s your day?”

And thus

The dam of unfamiliarity was crushed

And thank you, God, for this flowing of truth.

He came to this bus stop to tell others they’re loved, He says

But He tells them through smiles and greetings

He knows God truer than most, for God to him is warmth.

Yet from that warmth is His soul cracked.

Nobody to love Him. Neither family nor friends.

He’s the most alone I’ve ever seen.

Unrequited love,

This time in a significant context.

He hasn’t the money for His medical complications

Nor the social standing for His soul’s complications.

Hailing from a justice system that punitively chewed His spirit to fine powder

Only to throw Him face down before a world that has never loved Him, and,

Painful as it is,

Likely will never love Him.

39 years of slaughtered hope.

Is it because He’s black that He served so long?

Possibly

And we would call that system unjust, but here very nearly

I passed Him by for circumstances just as uncontrollable.

Our eyes meet a last time and I shake the hand of a man crucified,

Who sat here today to tell me I’m loved.

 

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