When I walk down a street,
I know people are looking at me.
But then I am looking at them,
you see that look is a trade off.
I look them in the eyes, and smile,
it is amusing to see their embarrassment.
Why do people look at each other
as if they are alien beings, strangers?
It’s as if a force field is erected
by a simple stare, a glance, a look.
A barrier of barb wire metaphysical
hands pushing out of the eye sockets.
Get back, stay away, I am dangerous,
leave me alone, don’t touch, back off!
I saw man laying in the gutter,
draped between two cars, he was bleeding.
People did not look, they turned away.
The compassion in humanity is so fragile,
it only exists when it is selfishly needed.
An old lady spills her groceries,
the sidewalk hoodlums scoop and run away.
They have not only stolen her sustenance,
they have given their soul to hell.
Don’t get involved, don’t stop, only look
when the threat is a warning, a facade.
There is fear in them, those that only look.
Fear of who they really are, who they
will never be, what they can never achieve.
Fear to be human! Why is that, when we are,
human?
Donald Harbour Poetry
“I hope I can be the autumn leaf, who looked at the sky and lived. And when it was time to leave, gracefully it knew life was a gift.” ~ Dodinsky
Donald Harbour Poetry 