I wrote this some time ago about the pockets of vulnerable people all around us. I hesitated to post it in order to avoid sounding like a lecture. I solved my dilemma by not including a reflection. The poem speaks for itself in each stanza about the homeless, the disabled, the poor and the elderly who are often overlooked by the privileged like me. I promise to be more positive in my next entry.

Forgotten but not Gone

He’s just the man on the corner of South and Main,
How easy I manage to keep him outside my frame,
An afterthought under foot, sleeping in open skies without stars,
Can I spare a buck from the safety of my imported car

His hyper-focused mind is trapped in the filter,
Without family buffers, social norms throw him off kilter,
His connections are fragile, always teetering on the edge,
Society for the majority creates a paralyzing wedge

Programs cast nets for photo-ops or basic needs,
Empathetic wounds don’t cut deep enough to bleed,
No speeches on enlightenment, surviving’s the sole talk,
Diplomacy holds little warmth with promises in chalk

A lifetime ago, she stood tall as a cedar,
Now comforts are meted out like scraps at a feeder,
Wisdom wheels around on chairs and drips in the drool,
She makes little sense to us because we are the fools

B. Toner July 2020