A Poem

We are the Poor

We are the poor
the destitute
the homeless
yet you see is as granite statues
scattered across the periphery of some innercity
the weight of our existence marking a spot
yet offering no beauty

You move around us in an attitute of politeness
attempting closeness
yet being careful not to touch

Our ears are filled with the drone
of your well meant intentions
yet you offer no chiseling to shape us
Our eyes are fixed with the glare
of one who does not see
yet you offer no vision to stir us
Our hands are weak from scavenging
of some others' senseless casting
yet you offer no adminstrations of healing

You see us as stone
immovable
a weight worthy of consideration
but not of carrying

You forget that even rock
though dulled with the residue heaped upon it
will reflect a radience
when showered by generous rains
will take on new shape
when patterened by kind and tolerant winds
will reveal what lies hidden beneath
when uprooted with gentleness

We the poor
the destitute
the homeless
can become sculptures of refinement and merit
deserving of our place in humanity
if someone

anyone

will take the time to embrace us

despite the roughness
of our edge

- Barbara Mitchell