Confession to Montgomery, Asleep on the Church Steps
If I walk quietly by
it is not to avoid disturbing you,
but rather myself. What
could I give you
but another bagel, the
boiled dough of nothingness
rising in cloudy water,
delaying, perhaps, another
guilty twinge. You have no
answers but when you
speak to the air, sometimes
a smile creaks through
the broken words, and I
think even in this cloistered
darkness we may close
the circle between halves
and might-have-beens,
an understanding, if only
in the language of bread
and coffee and the
disregarded. But today I stride
on, without pause, counting
on nothing that can’t be
pocketed or spoken aloud,
my steps echoing down
the alley and its secrets,
along the crosswalk’s painted
guides, under the sagging
power lines and through
your streetlight’s dim halo.
This first appeared on the blog in January 2016, and was published in Compassion Anthology in March 2019. I have not seen the man who inspired this poem in over two years. I hope he has found shelter and kindness.
Poignant, Robert. I also hope he’s found shelter and kindness.
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A friend witnessed him being put into an ambulance. I hope there was a good end to the story.
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I hope so, too.
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“If I walk quietly by it is not to avoid disturbing you, but rather myself.” Once again a great line. We need poetry now as much as ever if not more…
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Poetry helps me see myself as well as others.
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If poetry helps you you see yourself, then let me affirm you look fantastic! 🙂
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