Knoxville Soup Kitchen
Wobbling in the rain, drunk
or maybe just in pain, thrusting her
three-legged metal cane before her,
she struggled up the concrete bridge-ramp
arching beside the Rescue Mission.
Almost stopped the car to give her a ride,
wanted to ask (just so I would know)
what could have brought her down
that low? Demon alcohol, crack pipe, or
just plain sorrow beyond bearing? Wanted to say-
Hey, sister! What made your life so hard?
But then, thoughts of how she might
smell, of unforeseen obligations,
pushed my foot against the accelerator.
Afterwards, everywhere I looked
white haired bag-ladies, kids on smack
floating like pale water-lilies up sullen streets---
a sign across from Kroger's,
warning of domestic violence. A number to call.
Suddenly I realized we're all afflicted
in some way, struggling up the ramp of life,
passing ourselves without ever stopping.
Wobbling in the rain, drunk
or maybe just in pain, thrusting her
three-legged metal cane before her,
she struggled up the concrete bridge-ramp
arching beside the Rescue Mission.
Almost stopped the car to give her a ride,
wanted to ask (just so I would know)
what could have brought her down
that low? Demon alcohol, crack pipe, or
just plain sorrow beyond bearing? Wanted to say-
Hey, sister! What made your life so hard?
But then, thoughts of how she might
smell, of unforeseen obligations,
pushed my foot against the accelerator.
Afterwards, everywhere I looked
white haired bag-ladies, kids on smack
floating like pale water-lilies up sullen streets---
a sign across from Kroger's,
warning of domestic violence. A number to call.
Suddenly I realized we're all afflicted
in some way, struggling up the ramp of life,
passing ourselves without ever stopping.
| r.kv.r.y winter/spring 2007 poetry by carole ann borges |
