“The
Poor Man”
Smell the smog. Listen
to the cars go by on a busy Monday morning. Feel the vibrations of footsteps
walking past him. All he can see is shapes and shadows of unseen faces.
A man sits on a busy
sidewalk, wearing nothing but rags, a ragged
knit cap , and gloves missing fingers. A tin cup lies beside him, filled with the precious metals of a greedy man. This cup is his lifeline
before being taken by death. Doesn’t
anyone care for the poor man on the corner of main street?
A bakery across the
street fills the air with childhood memories. The man can see them in his mind.
He can see again. He’s with his family, laughing and joking. Then burning fire
appears, and it grows dark. Now he fends for his life on the corner.
Every day he sits on
that corner at quarter-past 7, patiently waiting for hope, the next meal, or to
live a better life. People, with their money-making pride, look at the poor man
in disgust. Men spit at him and carry on with their pride. Kids take his money
and move it to a different spot. He’s confused and follows the sound of the
coins while delinquents kick him, busting his ribs. How much pain can one tear hold?
He doesn’t give up. Every
day he is there, waiting for his second chance. Is there no one who cares for him?
Suddenly, the patting
of little feet approach the blind man. A boy delivers him a loaf of
bread and says, “I brought this for you from the bakery I work at.”
The man can’t believe that
such kindness can come from someone so small. He gladly accepts and asks, “Why do
you show such kindness to me?”
The boy replies, “A
little love can go a long way.”
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