Streets of San Francisco

I remember the very first time

That I saw a homeless person

On the streets of San Francisco

I could barely distinguish a person

 

From the carefully arranged rags

A hoarse voice, a death rattle

Begging for change

“No, don’t do it. Walk faster.”

 

So cold and heartless to do nothing

I would rail at my companions

Who knew there was nothing I could do

Reaching for change was too great a risk

 

An act of charity

An unthinking provocation to mob and mug us

My companions thought of our safety

I thought of another’s salvation

 

This new mark, dark, sooty, indelible on my soul

Stepping into adulthood, it was so wrong to me

The childhood illusions that I could help

Becomes the clouded mirror of today

 

So much is bleak and hopeless

There seems no means to end the pain

The suffering and misery

Starving, weak, desperate, destitute

 

I remember the very first time

That I saw a hopeless person

On the streets of San Francisco

I could barely recognize myself.