When is there a day for sweet sadness?
Where; a road for that lonely journey?
Locked behind that window pane of caged glass
A prison of our own devising that we label
That such living is a myth,
A lie we tell ourselves to make the tedium of it bearable,
We question not because it has become a necessity
The accepted evil in a society that has lost the penchant for
Celebration of the simple things – the good things.
I did a mean and small spirited thing
And now I feel the guilt.
I averted my eyes and strolled on
Past a fellow of society who needed help
But I bent my head and reasoned
That if I did not look at him, if I did not see him
Then he simply wasn’t there.
I was not alone of course,
Like so many others beside me I just kept walking
Thinking that he was not my responsibility.
And now I wonder am I really that jaded?
Am I really that small a person that I can not look past
He reeked of alcohol and stale BO,
But does that make him any less deserving of –
If not my pity, or charity –
Then at least basic human kindness?
And only now, when I’ve had time to sit and think on my actions
When I am once again tucked securely in my small prison of life
Do I wonder why did I not just open my mind and my heart then?
In that moment when I dropped my gaze and walked on by?
Why now when it is too late do I think on my actions and see them for
What they truly are?
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