If I don’t notice you begging in the street,
Are you really there?
If I don’t hear your cry for help,
Am I deaf?
If I don’t understand your plight,
Is it your fault?
If you could lay your head on a feather bed,
If you could have food aplenty,
If you could have clothes and shoes to wear,
You didn’t choose poverty,
You didn’t deign to live in the streets,
You are on every street corner,
In every city and every town,
And yet you are invisible!
What if I suddenly found myself in your shoes,
Would I survive?
Not in a million years!
I am deeply humbled by your courage and strength,
And profoundly troubled by your invisibility.
You are the homeless, the helpless, and the hopeless!
Who am I to judge you?
© Annabel Sheila