Bitterly cold during the height of summer
Sitting, waiting for something unknown
A kind glance, some acknowledgement
That he too is a person
Men, women, running to a destination
Wrapped up in themselves
Frightened to acknowledge
Anyone not like themselves
What if he talks to me?
Young man, leaning on his friend
Stands up to get some water
Takes off his robe to wash
The feet of the men
Who will flee in his time of need
Father, father, why have thou forsaken me?
Last breath is taken
Ultimate sacrifice given
His life for yours
Old man, sitting at a table.
©2002 deneen white