My Brother's Keeper

Christmas is over; everyone's looking forward to a new year, except for an unfortunate few who have no family. For them, there are no bells of celebration to ring in the New Year. They sleep in dirty blankets atop steam vents to keep warm. I can't even imagine being them; it's hard to fathom the nightmares haunting their meager existence; invisible in plain sight. The cold seeps into their bones, crushing their spirits. They're homeless human dregs, the byproduct of modern cities. Facing rejection and scorn, they preserve their dignity in alcohol; trying to stay numb. For the lost, hope is a luxury they can't afford; winter's the death knell for the mentally sick on the streets. To lose who you are as a person is both devastating and cruel; what was their crime? Humanity includes all souls such as these at its fringes. When I look into their eyes, I don't see a weight on society, I see the same hopes, dreams, and fears that I see in myself, and it makes me want to cry! Are we so different that we can justify their hurt and humiliation? Is our lack of pity because we're immune to the pain confronting us, or is it because, like Cain, we are not "my brother's keeper?" Perhaps it's a little of both!