With the sun glaring down, and the weight pulling down, I trudged on. Alone. Hundreds of strangers passed by, but not one knew my pain. Not one offered to help. When the weariness sets in and your head feels light, when you can feel your body sway and you reach for something to steady yourself–there’s no worse feeling than being alone and away from home. There’s no one to take care of you, no one to hold your hand. When you double over in pain or rest your sweating cheek against the vinyl seat, trying in vain to melt away from the anguish–nothing would bring relief more than a friendly hand on your shoulder. The panic and terror seizes you, the bags drop to the ground in scattered disarray, and somehow adrenaline carries you through. Your hand shakes, your body aches–and reality is vain disillusionment.
The day of reckoning is upon us. We will all answer for the decisions we have made, for the choices, for the actions, for the paths we have chosen. You will have to answer. I will have to answer. Will your answer hold up? Or will you look back in shame and embarrassment? People are counting on you, people are relying on you. Will your tender hand lead them astray? Will you ignore the protests, the murmuring in the night? Will you ignore the crying of the children as you disband their growing power? As you cover their light what answer can you give? I can only pray for mercy for the things we have done.
He sat there talking to himself. Hadn’t shaved in weeks, a dirty cap on his head, and his sneakers. They truly lived up to the word. His grimy toes poking out his sweaty socks poking out his dilapidated shoes. Those shoes. I watch him stamp out a cigarette under those shoes, and I see his toes wriggle as he does so. After seeing such a sight, how can I buy myself a brand new fifth pair of shoes? It just doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t make any sense.