Poetry Friday034

Image by Franco Folini via Flickr

In passing

“I wish I had a house too,” she said, as I walked past her on the narrow city sidewalk.
Her young son, looking into her face as she spoke, pricked something in me.

Are they homeless, or renters?
They don’t look homeless, and
why should I care, it’s
not my problem.
Same sun shining down on all of us
Social umbrella wide open for rainy days, and it’s
not raining now.

So I kept walking.

I took the elevator up to my second floor desk,
overlooking upscale condos with private terraces,
trendy loft apartments, and ground floor commercial.

There,
just outside my
glass curtain

wall,

the street below me (below my superior sight lines)
existed only in traffic sounds now, and the hum of
the lawn maintenance crew lulled me with the familiar.

She walked away.
She did.
Not just me.

Seed of Samaritan squelched, I returned to my work – pursuing purpose.

She’s still walking.
Son at her side,
sun on her shoulders,

walking.

September 2010

Related Articles

• Poetry in the Shelters (improbableoptimisms.blogspot.com)
• Tom Waits Combines Homelessness and Poetry in First Book ‘Hard Ground” (spinner.com)
• Tom Waits Releases Poetry Book for Charity (pitchfork.com)

Poetry Friday024

Why?

Waters edge in the coolness of morning, I imagine
that I am
You
standing there
before the three day search is called off
before Hibiscus leis are thrown into the sea, and
tearful prayers offered up to the ocean gods
all the indications of impending doom appear
clearly noted,
signposts and red flags,
and explanations of rip tides, and what to do
should you find yourself in one
three hot pink floats dot the translucent turquoise
surface in a
one point perspective, showing
where not to go, so
why
why did you dive in?
bravado?
naivete?
the lure of underwater worlds
where you swim eternal?

Or
were these warnings added later
to cover the asses of those in charge
of such things?

Your photograph is set upon a small cairn of coral
strewn with wilting Plumeria blossoms
at the edge of the beach.

This and
stories and
angry questions are only part of

What remains.

Lesley-Anne Evans
April, 2010

 

I offer up my poem, ‘Why?’, in response to the One Word at a Time Blog Carnival, hosted by Peter Pollock at his blog, PeterPollock.com. Drop by, and read all the thought provoking entries written on today’s word, Broken. Thank you, Peter, for taking us there.

A few of the upcoming words for the Carnival will be:

• January 25 – Winter
• February 8 – Renewal
• February 22 – Sacrifice
• March 8 – Future
• March 22 – Goals

Suddenly…

Yesterday I was presented with an amazing opportunity, and even more amazingly, I said YES! That’s not my usual response, as I’m the kind of person who thinks things over, considers the cost, needs more information, needs to understand the outcome, weigh possible side issues etc. etc. etc., so to get to YES is a lengthy process. But, this time, it seemed providential that I was asked, and so I bravely opened my mouth (well, my FB messager) and said, “Count us in”.

So, in April, my daughter and I will be leaving Kelowna, and heading to Cancun, Mexico, to volunteer at a sterilization clinic for dogs and cats. I’m not a vet. I know nothing about the needs there. All I know is that my friend Darci has dedicated her life to bringing hope and healing to the unwanted and uncared for dogs and cats of Mexico and other countries through her organization CANDI International. Many times we’ve seen Darci with dogs she has rescued from horrible situations, and witnessed her find them forever homes and happy lives in Canada and the US. Now Claire and I get to go along and show our compassion and love to God’s creatures. We get to make a difference with CANDI, as their website says, “one animal at a time”.

Thank you Darci, for asking us to go with you. Now we need to get prepared, and understand more of the details. But all I have to do is look at the photographs or read the stories on the CANDI website to know we have made the right choice.

As I go through what might be the last days or weeks with our sweet dog Buddy here at home, it somehow helps me to know that there are other dog stories still to be written, other dogs that need to be cared for, and the possibility of other happy endings. If our Buddy story has a sad ending, our trip to Mexico might be exactly what God has in mind to begin the process of healing our broken hearts through loving unloved dogs far far away.