Contributor Series 5: Dramatis Personae
Inner Lives
By Bob Christin
By Bob Christin
That scruffy bearded homeless
man pushing a cart of broken
dreams stares out at the world
in a trance, eyes unseeing,
pointed straight ahead to
protect himself from scorn,
side glances of discomfort.
His feeling locked or missing.
He is independent, a person
fully human in God’s image.
When I look at his eyes closed
to my peering in, I see myself,
my scruffy, bearded spiritual
life accepting arrogantly my
cart of fulfilled dreams, my
comforts of every day without
even a nod to my benefactors
who pushed and shoved me
from nothing to the riches
I have enjoyed. My side glances
are rarely focused on the angels
who carried me on their wings
to safe living rooms and libraries
and love. Looking at this man
I scorn not him but my neglect,
my indifference, my aversion
to discomfort. I say not the
arrogant There but for the
grace of God, but more
humbly, Is it I, Lord?
Bob Christin’s poetry (For My Daughter, ADORATION, for Dorothy, Out of the Dust) appeared at vox poetica in 2009.
Wow, Bob, this is very powerful.
The depth of this poem spoke to me. Good job.
Bob, your perfect final line says it all.
Sharon