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talking to myself

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Those passed by

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markdohle

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They are everywhere, looking at us, asking, begging perhaps,

homeless, those without jobs; yes the mentally ill,

an unending flood of those less fortunate, isolated, outside.

Some survive by manipulation, con men or women, using others,

the generosity of others abused, used, so that they may not have to work.

Many more suffer the burden of begging because they have fallen far,

perhaps due to drugs, or some other addiction, perhaps just a lost job,

living from pay check to pay check could put anyone on the street for awhile.

It is not that far away for many, more than commonly thought, families homeless.

Twist and turns, ups and down, bad luck, poor planning, or injustice,

perhaps there are many more reasons that can trap those that may need to seek help,

their pride ground down into the dust, as they stand before others begging.

Holding signs that say” hungry, please help”, or “will work for food”,

standing before the onslaught of cars, one after another driving by being ignored,

some drivers ashamed to look, not knowing what to do, afraid of being used,

others angry, thinking them lazy, shiftless, at times true, at others not,

some give, then think after that have been taken, maybe sometimes true.

If a man or woman is hungry they need food, being deserving has nothing to do with it,

nor can one really judge, which ones to help, the others to ignore, passed by, left behind.

What happens if those who need help are passed by over and over again,

not looked at, face turned away, perhaps in shame, anger, or even contempt.

If done enough what will it do to the one who hardens their heart’s in numberless repetition,

of judgment and denying. Is something lost, is it worth the price, what is one to do?

Each must decide for themselves, allowing their conscience to lead them forward.

Many begging were once like us, homes, marriages, job theirs, one does not plan,

use strategy to become the refuse of society. Can people really become trash?

Who are they really, those we pass by?

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