Sunday, May 2

I Want To Hold The World's Hand.

we walked in, both looking one and the same asking to be seated. as we shared our days events to one another i couldn't help but notice a older gentleman slowly making his way up a slightly steep hill. getting where... i still don't know but it seemed his travel had been rough to this point. he stopped his cart, full of all his worldly possessions and looked around. I'm still unaware if my eyes were penetrating his presence so deeply that he felt them too but his eyes connected to mine and it was as if he was looking through to my soul and taking all of me in.

as she continued talking, although me sitting salt & pepper shakers across from her she didn't seem to notice or maybe even cared that i wasn't a ounce intrigued in what she was saying. as long as i was breathing i was worth her own sharing. as i gazed at him he gazed back, silently sizing one another up. myself, $300 Original Burberry printed button up, $100 Guess jeans, and $300 Burberry shoes. him, no labels and yet his outfit cost more than mine did.

get it?

i finally snapped out of my gaze when i found myself wondering how he could look at me with such disgust... it started to become evident as my eyes started to uneasily wonder away from his. probably sensing his presence was being dismissed, belittled, and eventually ignored because i was just another spoiled teenager that couldn't understand let alone feel any compassion or understanding when I'm used to having "everything given", product of my environment guilty. i can't be mad at him, that's probably what the world sees...

i looked up into her MAC adorned face and caught the end of what she said "... i just don't understand people like that. all this tax money I'm paying out."

"so because you're paying taxes you feel like you're doing your part?"

"I'm just saying that extra 50 or 60 dollas they take out of my check for taxes could be a extra pair of shoes or something."

I am opposed to the system of society in which we live today, not because I lack the natural equipment to do for myself but because I am not satisfied to make myself comfortable knowing that there are thousands of my fellow men who suffer for the barest necessities of life. We were taught under the old ethic that man's business on this earth was to look out for himself. That was the ethic of the jungle; the ethic of the wild beast. Take care of yourself, no matter what may become of your fellow man. Thousands of years ago the question was asked; ''Am I my brother's keeper?'' That question has never yet been answered in a way that is satisfactory to civilized society.

Yes, I am my brother's keeper. I am under a moral obligation to him that is inspired, not by any maudlin sentimentality but by the higher duty I owe myself. What would you think me if I were capable of seating myself at a table and gorging myself with food and saw about me the children of my fellow beings starving to death.

my thoughts took me outside to where i walked up slowly to the gentleman and extended my hand "Hi, I'm Gwen and I would be honored if you joined me for lunch." he smiled wide showing healthy white teeth and extended his wrinkled hand that knew first hand hard work and replied "I'm Paul and that sounds mighty fine."


gwen.

3 comments:

JStar said...

This was amazing Gwen! I experienced being homeless so this was very close to my heart. Although you would never know it to look at me now, and even back then...My pride wouldnt allow me to ask for help or even let people know I was in need of help...For you to be so young, you are wise beyond your years...Your sight is noticing...Observing the world and your heart is very big! Dont allow lifes pain and hurt to take away that amazing heart of yours...

Don said...

Yep. This appears to be an occurrence that takes place more than one cares to notice in today's society.

The fact that she walked up and suggested anything other than the 'what in the hell are you looking at' gesture to the older gentleman speaks volumes.

Loved.

Alee said...

I love this post