The Face of Kindness

The Face of Kindness
By Heather Neufeld

He shivered as the wind with an icy bite
scissored its way, through a jacket too light.
Like a cloak on his shoulders, he wore such despair.
Alone and forgotten, was there no one to care?

No one to care that he'd no food to eat
or anything warm to wear on his feet?
Though the lack of a home, indeed took its toll
the loneliness, is what pierced his soul.

Oh, how he yearned for a smile or kind word
but hope was diminished, when neither occurred.
Yes, the people were there, they passed by every day
nobody asked though, if he was okay.

The middle aged woman, with dismay in her eyes
men wearing suits with fancy silk ties
they all looked away, some crossed the street
he was not someone they'd care to meet.

"Why can't you see?" he wanted to say
"I'm no different than you, I once earned my pay.
With cutbacks at work, I was no longer required
I applied other places, but never was hired.”

The man hung his head, the pain was so deep
as it welled up inside, he started to weep.
Lost in his grief, he felt a touch on his arm
startled, the man, looked up in alarm.

Standing before him, was a boy in his teens
there was a ring in his brow, he was wearing torn jeans.

The boy hunkered down and the eyes that were leveled
at the man from the street, so worn and disheveled
they shone with a warmth that came straight from the heart. He had no harm, only good to impart.

“Hi sir.” He said,” I thought maybe that
you could make use of these gloves and this hat.”
Along with a drink and some food for a snack
that he took from a bag slung 'cross his back
with an encouraging smile and a nod for good measure
he blessed the man with a gift, worthy of treasure.

It wasn't just the need, met with food and some gloves but the way it was given, by someone who loves.

The man who once thought, all teens were to blame
like those who judged him, he'd done the same.
What did it matter, the piercing of lips
or pants that were worn so low on the hips?
The soul of the person is what should be seen
no one discounted, rich, poor, or teen.

Though still on the street, but, because of the boy
for the first time in years, the poor man, knew joy.

Submitted by Anonymous

Compassion