Saturday, January 2, 2010

A Woman On The Streets Of Rome

She wore a tattered sweater,
ragged skirt and
woolen cap.
Her head bowed
rocking back and forth,
making no eye contact,
no plea for mercy.

So pitiful and alone
neglected in that darken alley.

He ignored her,
walked past her,
she doesn’t matter anyway,
humans are dispensable
debris, nothing more.

In the morning he saw her again
alive and animated.

Did someone take her in?
Did they offer her a place to sleep,
a warm meal,
a bath,
a kind word?

“Someone showed me compassion,”
she said,
“and in that instant my life was changed.”

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