Tuesday, August 28, 2012

This Is My America


Have you ever looked into the eyes of a homeless man? Caverns, deep and knowing. He sat, humbled beyond comprehension, child by his side - 

I knew this man were homeless not due to attire, due to suitcases, 5-6, surrounding him on all sides. His child quiet, played with a toy -  

At this moment, observing, I wished I had something to write with so I could relay the beauty of this man and his child to the world -

You see, he were dressed in a 3 piece suit. This man, now homeless, had more dignity than those of us who reside in luxury -  

How utterly helpless I felt bearing witness to Father and Son, waiting in line, their number to be called, eventually, like all the rest -

Life is a conundrum, placing us precisely at the exact unexpected moment in time, slow, like molasses, to teach us lessons -

A number called, finally. I held great hope hidden deep within my throat for the child, homeless by circumstance, never once complained -  

And I overheard, "We are unable to help you, sir. You need to have an address to get aid."  The man never rose his voice, the child, still - 

"I just lost my home",  the man replied. "I came here because I have nowhere else to go. My child is hungry." -  

Yet the same monotonous response came from behind the bullet proof glass. "Sir, you must have an address in order to receive aid." - 

He rose then, man and child, no home nor food and grasped the hand of his son. The child understood. Both of their eyes, showing signs of no sleep -  

They walked out of the door dragging all they owned onto the frigid winter streets of Buffalo. I never saw them again, this man and child - 

I hoped he were "just visiting' or that the clerk had made a mistake, but no. This is my America. Man and  child, 3 piece suit, and the cold -  

And even now, safe in my home, I envision them both, Father & Son, begging for things that should be given and I am ashamed at myself - 

Ashamed for not walking to him, for observing, ashamed for not whispering five miraculous words: 

How can I help you?


Susan Marie 2012  

2 comments:

  1. sometimes this world is a hard place to be, no matter, whether you're living in the 1st or 3rd world. Between the lines Susan, you implied a bitter reality that most of us dont care about others...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Zak, thank you for reading. I truly appreciate that so much. You are 100% correct on where one lives, this particular incident had to do directly with the welfare and various government aid systems in place in America and how they do not work correctly. I had to take my Mother to a government office for a social security issue years ago and this occurred before my eyes. And no one cared. He probably had to go to a city mission, register there, which is a public shelter, to get an address, take the bus, if he had change, then come all the way back, to apply for aid and then wait to be accepted. In America, if you do not have an address, you cannot get government aid. The good thing about shelters, if not full already that is, because many do get turned away, not on purpose, no funding or over capacity, is they can provide beds and food but not for a long time unless one is a resident. This man is any one of us. I will never ever forget this. Ever. We are taught to not speak to strangers here and you know, maybe I could have helped. Yes, the world is indeed hard. I have no idea what made me write about this now. I hope they are okay.

    ReplyDelete