Caring and the Job
Caring and The Job
The caretaker got out of the car.
She went to the back,
opened the door,
and pulled her ward out too.
He was an old man.
He was a frail man.
He was a frail, old man.
Together, they turned.
They slowly walked
toward the entrance,
of the doctor's offices.
A few steps forward,
then they stopped.
A few steps forward
then they stopped, again.
The man had lost his pants.
They had slid clear to ankles...
at a glance.
Everyone could see,
what the man was wearing,
staring at white diapers
for the old.
It was cold.
Passersby just passing.
No one stopped to help.
He just stood there,
standing in the wind...
of the blustery day.
The helper seemed slow
and unconcerned.
As if this was an everyday
occurrence.
My heart was broken
for this stranger,
that had been reduced
to so much less,
than he truly was or is,
by time,
by injustice,
by failing health,
lack of wealth,
and most of all
by the stealth
of death.
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