Nobody

If I had no place to sleep, not even a pillow to rest my head,
The ground cold and hard cut into my back, vacant eyes searched for a ceiling,
Goosebumps on the shriveled skin begged for a coverlet,
The walking stick and the duffle bag, my only possessions,
If I were dirty than dirt,
And thirsty than the crow in the fable,
Frail and mean, hungry and diseased,
Would I then curse God?  Beg or steal, run or crawl?

What if I am too old to run, too broken to crawl?
The limbs numb from the night out in the cold,
A hurting back and a throat so choked,
With no family or friends asking about my health,
My ears longing to hear another human voice, kind and soft,
To forget for a few moments the volley of harsh words and stones,
That day would be like paradise when someone will stop,
Offer me a meal, watch me eat,
But that’s a dream I don’t dream anymore,
For, every day like every other day, hundreds of cars with thousands of people in them,
Pass me by without a glance; I am no one to them,
A sinner, a pauper, a beggar, spitting on their roads, picking on their trash.

Image Credit - Aditi Kuber