The Meeting

From amidst the flies bewildered there Where his hands rummage the dirty scraps of waste He lifted pleading eyes without a tear And brought the putrid scenting meat to meet his taste I would have turned from it and looked away Would have told him stop, or even pray But against my eyes others lined the pall of day That webbed me pining in the raw decay There is a humanity that make us cleave In the ebb and flow of others' fortune in the earth A dismal tear to shed when others grieve The wine of elation to drink for others' mirth And something more wretched than impotence of hope Assails the heart where tyrants subjugate the poor And men daylight through Egypt's night still grope Against a cold, and shuttered door. I saw him with pity, he saw me with contempt Perhaps because of something demeanor or manner did not say Should I have yelled, 'don't think me exempt From debacle consuming us, from life's disarray I found no voice to tell my pain, but tolled my chain And walked away into the havoc of slanting rain Through wet streets and water rushing to a clogged drain I let it soak me, if only to dilute the pain.