“Please give.” Dirty hands calloused with wanting. An addled mind mumbling confession in altered universe time. Filth the mortar that make the walls of home. A grey spectre composed of rags and squeaking wheels. Rattling bottles sing the tune of the no-man – who huddles in shadows no one wants or even sees.
copyright 2011
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Your photo and words have such a heavy weight about them.
No one wants or even sees… Yeah. 😦
Hey Clancy,
You know I took that photo – that is one of our neighborhood homeless. It’s a sad state of affairs.
Annie
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If we don’t see it, it’s not there. If we don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t happen. If we don’t know it, we can make stuff up to justify it.
If we give, where will it end? The thing is that this situation is perpetual. Is it possible to give in such a way which the giving will no longer be necessary? That’s what I asked myself when I read your piece.
Poignant.
Hey Chica,
I think a lot of people ask the question you pose here – probably without any real answer too. I think that there must be a way to help that stops the cycle. I think you can help people in ways that doesn’t perpetuate the situation. I’m reminded of the adage that says if you want to feed a man give him a fish if you want to feed him for life, teach him to fish (that’s probably not exactly right) – Maybe somehow we can learn this approach with our homeless.
Annie
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