Empathy
There was an orange glow
under an overpass;
there were empty cans
and broken glass;
graffiti on the cemente
and secrets in the grass -
and it's where I stopped to rest.
He was an old man,
he said his name was Jack;
he looked me over,
asked me what I had;
when I said company,
he offered his bread -
and he assured me it was blessed.
He told me
he didn't have long to live,
cuz there were too many
things he couldn't live with;
and he admitted advice
wasn't his to give -
and I listened carefully.
He said, "It's a long life
when you're all alone;
that bloodstains never come clean
if they aren't your own,"
and that "you can live forever
in a beautiful poem."
and he said to call it empathy.
Copyright © Victor Dixon | Year Posted 2011
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