The Ignored Ones

She cries the cry of the forgotten,

With desolate heart, beating quietly in a corner.

Loneliness has robbed her of words.

None can communicate the depth of her aloneness,

So she waits.

Head nestled upon a blanket

Dingy with the bruised film

Of an eternity compressed

Into a matter of weeks on this,

Her piece of pavement.

I ignore her, avoiding the merest possibility

That I may be like her,

That I may be her.

Furtive glance met by the other,

Eyes lock, souls mingle through the ether of forever.

A heart beats once,

And it is over.

I pull out my last dollar and hand it over

Silently praying, “Let me never become you.”

She waits, eyes drop.

Aloneness descends,

Blanketing my prayer into a thud as it hits gray pavement.

I buy my absolution.

The price, a dollar.

Audrey Howitt Poetry, Alive and Well