The People We (Never) Meet
As I wait for the signal to change
My head hung low in hypnotic stare
Passing my time anxious as if in crisis
Preoccupied with the illusion of companionship of my digital devices
Never do I look up
Except to check for the little man
To direct me further
When it replaces the flashing red hand
Stepping into the crosswalk
Venturing across the street with spring in my step
Beside me a man in wheelchair
Pushed by a boy missing one arm below his bicep
As I notice from the corner of my eye
I wonder if my text will make it to my old school mate
Hoping that he'll be able to respond in time
Regarding my plan to host dinner at eight
Stepping back on to the sidewalk
The crippled man and armless boy
No longer a thought
Who were they? I will never know
I will never know that the man
A decorated wartime hero
On his very last patrol before headed home from overseas
Saw fit to stop and get down on bended knees
He could not just pass by an abandoned boy
Lying father and motherless in the streets of hell
The boy missing an arm adopted as son
Given new life now repays with gratitude to the very one
The one who as he knelt to pick up a destitute boy
And shield him from impending harm
Took a bullet in his back
But never once to this day regretted stopping for this boy with missing arm
As I continue on with my afternoon
Oblivious to the ignorance wrapped in my preoccupation
Void of the rich intimate stories of strangers dotting the street
Lost opportunities to live through the people we meet
