I remember a time when I was feeding
the homeless in Santa Monica.
there was an old homeless lady
walking down the street with her belongings.
I pulled up next to her in my car and said,
"hey mam, would you like some food?"
she looked at me with a mean face
and said, "get the hell away from me!
don't bother me."
I drove up next to her again
and said, in a more soft, concerned,
tone of voice,
"mam, if you would like some food,
you are welcome to have a lunch."
as I said this I held a sack lunch
outside my window.
she stopped.
I started to think to myself, "oh, she is
going to take it."
but then she hesitated as to see if I was safe.
then she started to move towards the car.
slowly, but surely, she came to the car window
and took the lunch.
then, in a very meek tone,
she said,
"thank you very much."
people, for fear of being hurt,
will often put on
a cold and hard demeanor.
but as soon as they
see that it's safe to talk to us they will
let down their wall and reveal their need.
I could have driven away after the
homeless lady's first response.
but something inside me told me
she was in need of love
underneath her
tough and angry
exterior.
a calloused heart is often the result
of a wounded heart.
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2009
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January
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- gods' heads by David Mclean
- The Crime Of Memory by Frank Reardon
- A Calloused Heart Is Often The Result Of A Wounded...
- The Old Poet by Karl Koweski
- A MAN AND A WORD by Suzy Devere
- Brand America by Maria Gornell
- The Nonpareil by James Dalrymple
- STRAW WATERFALL by RC Miller
- Thoughts from the Pond by Jarlid Shadows
- The Paralyzed Poem by Rob Plath
- The Sound of Our Breath in the Darkness by William...
- I CUNT by Ford Dagenham
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- The Corner Shop El Sanguchetto by Mike Meraz
- FIGHTING FOR YOURSELF by Suzy Devere
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4 comments:
This is so true!
that's why i cry when i get a massage.
i have to pay for someone to touch me kindly.
so is it any wonder my anger must protect the
wound that is inside.
i understand this poem.
You continue to inspire me and amaze me, Mike. Excellent, excellent write. I got a little weepy. (I hope my heart never grow calluses!)
All our hearts become calloused at some point in this journey of life--it (the callouse) serves as a protective armour that blocks the poisonous darts of vilicious words which tear down our self esteem. The calloused heart is our weapon of choice we use as a coping mechanism for life disappointments. If not careful it becomes our prison cell because we have stopped living due to so many disappointments.
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