He fades at the backdrop of our world. Our daily hustle drowns
his image off our minds. Better things, you say, needs to fill our minds. The raggedy
frame, the tragedy we met across the way. The one poverty knows by name. Limping
on a bad leg or leaning by the poster ridden wall under a bridge. Eyes
accustomed to hunger searching for pity. Pity, is the ghost of all worlds’ mega
city. Pity is the horror of the rich’s consciences, the reminder of our frail humanity.
The bowl in his hands is empty but some sunny day it’s filled with stipends. Oh
the stipends he greatly adore and bless wouldn’t buy a dog’s food. But he
greatly appreciates, though it’s below our dog’s breakfast, the most expensive
breeds.
Our lips speak more than our pockets do. He is nauseating to the
eyes. Like a zombie, he terrifies our sight. Debased or deformed we barely wait
to find out. We dare not breathe the air he breathes. We dare not approach him
without calculated steps. Unworthy in our modern world, isn’t he? Yet, he is
the only one that reminds us how ragged our consciences is. He is the carefully
piled garbage within our ironed suits and perfect dresses. Poverty is the infamy
of the modern world. Now a blasphemy in houses of worship too you know?
The wrinkly and feeble man looks toward the sky. He dares his
maker face to face, but the sun steals His gaze away from him. He thinks about
many decisions gone wrong or curses why he went blind. When you see him again,
will you brighten his day? Will you drop beyond the stipend in his bowl without
expecting back? What you drop is not money but tiny drop of kindness and hope. The
contents of his begging bowl are his life for the next day. Be grateful when
you come his way. On the outside he is you and I on the inside. We are creatures
in desperate need always. We are poor in one or more areas of our fractured
lives. We are all beggars of something; his needs just differ from yours.
Whoever mocks poor people, insults their Creator. Proverbs 17:5MSG
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