He spits in his rag, washes my car window
San Francisco by Sara Fryd
A sign of the times
What sign is that, I ask myself?
That America is in trouble?
That our veterans have no place to live?
That a roof over one’s head is not a necessity
For a Marine?
Who fought for our security and more? Who now
Sleeps on the ground next to his wheel chair.
Since he has no other place to sleep
Except the grass beneath his sleeping bag.
Roll up a $20 bill and gently place it in his palm
His fingers close around it.
His eyes remain closed, his breathing slows.
I turn my eyes to the cerulean sky recalling
I have no job, nor means of support…
Still…
I have $20, a roof over my head, food in my fridge
And there but for the grace of God…
Go I…
All rights reserved. ©2009 by Sara Fryd
Yes, but for the grace…this makes me ill. I can’t even allow myself to say more for fear I’ll never stop. Everybody should read this.
There but for the grace of God go I … for now. Great sentiment and dead-on insights.
Beautiful Sara. How many times do people look the other way? They don’t see, they don’t know….
“We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.” – Winston Churchill
These men, and women, deserve so much more than a blanket on the grass. Oh this just breaks my heart.
A good work hon.
(I posted on this same topic too, a few months ago: http://darcsfalcon.wordpress.com/2009/05/12/okay-here-goes/ )
Such a lot to think about as we meet or pass one another each day. In this one the poet lifts into our view the complexity of coming to this moment and wondering about the back-story of them, us, and me. Like the way “sign of times” opens one to thought.
This is truly sad. Fern
I keep coming back but don’t know how to comment…my heart aches.
Sad times … is all I have to say. Heart wrenching!
oh this makes my heart bleed
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