Epiphany At Union Station
The Station was littered and in disrepair,
'Out Of Order' signs bore witness.
Discarded chewing gum and empty bottles,
and the smells emanating from untended
trash baskets... and in the midst
of all this dislocation there he was,
huddled in his wheelchair,
his tray of trinkets proudly perched
on a cardboard box, a makeshift table.
Always cheerful, greeting commuters
as they hurried past, but they never returned
the smile forever gracing his weathered face.
One day I stopped to say hello.
His eyes brightened as he said
"Good day to you, good sir!"
Can I interest you in any of my treasures?"
I noticed he was shoeless, sockless,
and made a mental note.
"Right now I have to catch a train,
but I'll return when I have more time,
you have my word."
"I'll be here, this is my world, you'll
always be most welcome!" he explained,
as I disappeared into the teeming crowd.
Foregoing my schedule I returned the next day,
anxious to peruse his wares, and continue
our conversation. It turned out he was a Veteran
who'd fallen on hard times. I sat and listened
while he told me his story. A man displaced
by a society who would forever be in his debt.
"I'll be right back," I said. I had a plan.
Returning from the store, armed with sneakers,
socks and a sponge, I cleaned his feet,
pulled on his socks and laced up his
brand new Nikes. He was overwhelmed,
and by way of payment gave me a pendant
bearing the inscription, 'Semper Fi.'
"This will bring you good fortune, my friend,
wear it, and your heart will be free of strife,
and your days will be filled with sunshine!
Remember me and treasure it, that is all I ask."
Next day, as I was crossing the concourse,
I saw he was no longer at his station,
my friend, his wheelchair, and his tray of trinkets
all were gone. I hoped that where he went
he was cared for and comforted, and if he had shuffled
off this mortal coil that he was in the arms of God.
Was he seen by anyone else but me?
I believed with all my heart he was an Angel.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment