Trouble

Backpack and key, I walk out my door.
I cannot bear to stay.
Inward broiling, my core all at war...
It is a fateful day.
Walking, I see naught that, to me,
Will help me hold strongly on
To the weakening sanity none see
Shrinking till it is almost gone.
I get on a bus, I grab the lightrail,
Seeking for what I ought not.
The next station, something latches onto
My spirit and drags me off.
Benches all along the track I see.
On one, a woman who hurts
For what she has not inside.
Her lost expression, me, alerts.
"I don't know where I am," she says.
"I need to go to my home."
Name and number scribbled on scrap
She then hands me.  How far she's come...
With her permission, I call the number,
Knowing not what will ensue.
What I know is that letting God's daughter
Fend for herself, I won't do.
A lady answers. I tell her the tale.
She says, "She needs to come home.
"She's without her medication.
And is not safe, alone."
"I will get her there," I answer.
The call ends.  We start on our way.
Knowing not how far it is,
I feel we cannot stay.
Speaking to a passerby,
We have half an hour to walk.
But the woman is barely functional
She hardly can even talk.
I don't know what will happen,
But, haltingly, we begin.
Crossing streets and avenues,
The woman is wearing thin.
I am thinking we might not make it
No matter that we've tried,
When the passerby who gave us directions
Drives up to give us a ride.
The halfway house stands quiet,
When intercom I ring
But the lady's voice is grateful
That my suffering friend I bring.
The door opens, she shuffles in,
I turn and walk back to my ride.
Back to the station, then back home
I go, feeling quite different inside.
I had left to go looking for trouble.
I found someone in trouble instead.
By Heaven's Grace, from thinking ill
To saving a life, I'd been led.

Adam Scott Campbell