It could have been any of us,
that gentle man who pushed a bike
laden with his belongings,
that angry woman -- toothless, coatless,
who walked in sandals on a winters day.
But few of us have the courage
to face the streets alone.
Frigid nights,
soup kitchen meals,
people's eyes averted
from studying your face.
What ache drove them to the streets?
What events left them so fragile,
so broken
that societal norms were beyond reach?
Did he once sit alone
in silence
in a rented room,
Come face to face with the reality
that he could no longer
hold home and hearth together?
Did her money run out?
And with it, the capability of making more?
Did she reach out for help
only to find no help there?
Did he not even reach at all,
too broken to make the effort.
We will never know,
those of us who walked past them
as they sat on vacant storefront steps,
Giving but a nod of acknowledgement
to their presence, their lives, their souls.
*Written in memory of Paul Rake, who
pushed his bike along the streets of
New Milford, who died on Oct. 12, 2012.
