The Life of One

Hair droops down over her shaking hands.

She tells me, "It's been a rough day."

I have people to see, places to go

But something whispers to stay.

Darkness writhes within me.
Ever at mortal war,
I often don't remember
What I'm living for.
Traffic races.  Broadway and I-25
Is not my final place to arrive,
But a woman with cardboard beacon
Needs me to keep her alive.
No destination she knows how to reach,
God's daughter is here asking alms.
Now one who ever struggles
To stay sane... balanced... calm,
My brain invaded by sterilized blade...
God's own daughter suffering deep...
How can such a cripple as I
Shed light I never try to keep?
Friend and family...
I have what she has not.
Twixt my ache for this my sister,
A simple urge is caught.
I have not resources
To keep the world afloat.
No great hoard of riches.
No car, or jet, or boat.
But what I have, I give.
My paltry change, my poetry,
My homemade lunch as well
Some of my own tear-dusted story
To my sister I then tell.
A heart-felt hug she gives me
With tremulous smile.
Perhaps enough hope I've given her
To keep her going a little while.
Maybe I have a purpose
In seeing another suffer.
Maybe my Heavenly Father,
Himself, has wanted to hold her.
But to help me, He let me help her
While the world's heart grows colder.
Wars, stumbles, and pains
I didn't make undone.
But with change, words, and lunch
I helped in the life of one.

Adam Scott Campbell