A Poem by a Stranger

Doorway

Don’t remember me as you last saw me.

I was feeling down, rough; useful life past

and the present cold, hard, edgy. You see

you gave me food, clean clothes, the will to last

another dark, deep night. A tense, sorry sight,

drink, drugs a desperate high to move it fast.

Dawn arrives, feeling crap get in a fight.

Hit, kicked, shit upon then struggle down to

find a friend. Help at hand providing light

at the end of my tunnel… What would I do

if you weren’t there to run to? Help me

please – listen with compassion. Thank you.

Anonymous October 2016