No One Knows
Hello and welcome.
I wrote this poem some years ago when I passed a homeless person on the streets of London and noticed how most people hurried past, choosing not to see the young man huddled in the doorway.
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
A Styrofoam cup fished out from a litter bin
Symbolically positioned on the pavement or
Held out in vain hope from a dingy doorway
Shoulders drooping from the weight of the world
In shame, hopelessness, remorse? No one knows
A solitary penny sits at the bottom of the cup
And the owner stoops isolated, alone
Hunched against the cold; belly-ache hungry
As crowds bustle to and fro, heads bowed
In shame, remorse, disgust? No one knows
Sad and lonely but as people rush past he glimpses
Sneakers and brogues. Stilettos clickety-clack on the paving
Hurrying, scurrying. To where? No one knows
A myriad of things to do, places to go, people to see
Choosing not to see the figure hunched in the doorway
Laughter tinkles around the elegant bar; glasses chink
A good day’s work in the city, well rewarded
Fat cats dine, and wine pours down their well-lubricated throats
But outside, hunched in the doorway, head bowed
In shame, hopelessness, remorse? No one knows
Swanky high-rise towers rub shoulders in the city skyscape
As million-dollar deals get sealed by well-oiled means
But the solitary penny sits in the Styrofoam cup
Another day of staring straight ahead
And the plight of the homeless remains unsolved
Do you see homeless people on the streets where you live? Do you wonder how they became homeless?
Thanks for reading and on Sunday, I am back again with another short story in Rosy’s Reading Room. You can catch up on last week’s here:
This poem was first published on Medium but has been adapted slightly.