Barefoot on Thirteenth Street

| No Comments | No TrackBacks

Barefoot on this frigid night

He stands in the middle of the icy road.

Gloveless hands weaving mysterious circles,

Shaven head bare

He sings his tuneless song to nobody,

Oblivious to the biting cold

That burns my cheeks and nose.

All around, in bars and restaurants

Dining and drinking, dancing and laughter.

Here, on Thirteenth street

Life hangs in the balance.


I watch him settle down outside the bank,

Preparing to sleep on chilly flagstones.

His flimsy blanket offers no protection.

Hope and warmth are just blocks away

Yet worlds apart from his bewildered brain.

He is my brother and my Messenger.

Running to the bus station

I call the hotline. Help is coming.

He will live, tonight.

No TrackBacks

TrackBack URL:

Leave a comment


Powered by Movable Type 6.1.2

Follow alakanandama on Twitter

Twitter Updates

    Natural Health Blogs - BlogCatalog Blog Directory

    About this Entry

    This page contains a single entry by Alakananda Ma published on February 11, 2019 2:36 PM.

    Twelfth Night and the Three Wise Poets was the previous entry in this blog.

    The End of the Line is the next entry in this blog.

    Find recent content on the main index or look in the archives to find all content.