10/24/2024
I wrote this some time around 2019. I sat at the Mirrored Window in the office I worked in, which was across the street from Hope Center, where a large population of homeless, addicted, mentally ill, and the poorest of our community was ministered to daily.
The Mirrored Window
Every day they pass
I see them but they don't see me
One-way, mirrored glass between us
The homeless, the hopeless
They gaze upon their reflection as they go by
Sometimes a quick glance
Sometimes they linger
The Passers seem to want
To avoid what they see
The Lingerers appear to wonder
At the image staring back at them
"How did I get here?"
"Is that REALLY me?"
"Is there any hope for that person I see?"
Some seem oblivious to their surroundings
Talking to unseen entities
Occasionally, yelling and arguing
With invisible tormentors
One man caught the attention of this observer
Curly, Sandy gray hair, bushy beard
Reminiscent of a weathered sailor
Daily pushing a shopping cart
Filled with all of his earthly goods
Two dogs, well -fed pit bulls, tied to the cart
Happily prancing alongside their human
Summer heat, winter chill
They were a constant, joyful reprieve
In the mundane day of an office worker
Recently, the weathered man passed
No cart, a backpack, and NO dogs
His countenance told a wordless story
Of heartbreak
His canine companions, one of his sole
Sources of earthly joy and comfort
Torn from his already miserable existence
Now he passes, mostly alone
Sometimes accompanied by a fellow sojourner
Sadness evident in his grizzled face
Tears come to my eyes as I witness
The pain so evidently etched in flesh
From the comfort of my chair
On the other side of the Mirrored Window
Michelle Wood
