By: Johnathan M. Cobb
I see a man
standing with
outstretched arm,
a cup in his dirty hands.
With eyes full
of
sadness and
quiet desperation
he asks passersby
for anything
they
can spare.
I watch the scene
unfold
before me.
Some give money,
a kind word,
a smile.
Some only contempt.
Some
pass by,
their heads
hung low
with the weight of
guilt.
My turn comes.
What should I do?
(cont'd)
and
the world
around us disappears
as I look into
pain-filled eyes.
The Bible says that
some have
entertained angels
unawares.
Who am I
to just
pass by?
I drop a
few coins
into his cup
and
hear them
hit bottom.
His face lights up
and
he smiles
a
toothless smile
as he thanks
me.
For what?
I've done nothing
(cont'd)
try to banish
my own guilty
conscience.
My heart soars
at the fleeting
glimmer of hope
that shines in
his eyes ...
then falls as
the hope disappears
back into forgotten
places in his soul
and is replaced,
once more,
by
quiet desperation.
Full of shame,
head hung low,
I utter a quick,
completely faithless,
God-bless you,
aimed at the ground
as I hurry
back
into my
blessed life
that I am
completely unthankful
for.
