Kindness Or Naivety

I sat watching the world go by,
When I saw a man begin to cry.
I asked him softly, “What’s wrong, my friend?”
He whispered, “Do you have any money to lend?”

“How much?” I asked. His voice was bare —
“Anything, sir… just to kill this despair.”

His eyes were glass,
His soul looked thin;
Skin like ash,
Dirt ground in.

I pulled my wallet, passed him a few pound.
Tears hit the pavement.
He dropped to the ground.

“Thank you, kind sir,” he said, grasping my hand.
“You’ve given me strength I can barely withstand.”

“No problem,” I muttered, watched him fade —
A shadow swallowed by alleyway shade.

?

Later that night —
Sirens scream.
Blue lights bleed
Through my half-formed dream.

Crowds around
A body cold —
Blood in the gutter,
Stories untold.

A needle glints
In a lifeless hand…
No one whispers
Where he stands.

?

I’ll never know
If it was him I fed;
Did my coins buy life,
Or fast-track to dead?

And every time I see someone beg on the street,
I taste blood in their tears —
And guilt on my teeth.

And in every pair of glass eyes I meet,
I see him staring —
Silent.
Accusing.
At my feet.

And some nights I wonder —
Was it really his hand I held…
or mine?

Copyright © Sam Russell | Year Posted 2023

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