Of a Greater Connection

Standard

You see what you expected to see,

And now a man is dead.

I found him by the alley-side,

Waiting to be fed.

 

He reached up to grasp my hand,

Fragile, he did fall.

I looked at Mother who looked wrongfully mad,

And against her judgment, I made the call,

To which my hand cradled his,

Because he was of man,

And I, woman.

 

People ask me why I help people of their kind,

And I stare at them, confused.

Of which “kind” I am entirely blind,

Because to me I can’t see how one’s wealth and privilege makes them utterly excused,

From helping those less fortunate than me.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s