"Does that person feel like me?"
TL;DR - The poem's at the bottom.
A poem inspired by a little boy's question to his mother about what he saw in a grocery store parking lot. And the story follows...
The wife and I were shopping and when we were done, we were exiting the store and we noticed a man sitting on the curb, hands in his face, and shoulders which were moving in that rhythmic motion and it let us know that he was crying.
I try not to pry, but I also try not to let someone lay in the gutter. So I let my wife continue on to the car and I walked over. As I approached, I could tell he was a homeless gentleman. So I just sat down. I didn't say anything.
He turned, with one of the saddest expressions I've ever seen in my life, and simply said "They stole my dog".
Well you know me. That broke my heart. So I asked about the dog and he proceeded to tell me the warmest stories that you would expect to hear from a family man who is telling you about their family pet.
He started crying even more. And then it happened. A mother and a very young child came along. And the child did what children do, they asked about what they didn't understand.
But they didn't ask their mom, the little boy asked me. I'm all about honesty, so without thinking I simply said someone stole his dog.
The boy seemed satisfied with the answer and the mother and he continued on their way into the store.
I sat there for a short while with the man while he continued to talk about his dog, when the two appeared again. Well that was a bit too quick for any kind of shopping that they looked like they would have been doing. And they're heading back to us again?
When they got close enough, I noticed the boy was carrying a store bag. He looked up at his mother and she let go of his hand. He walked over as very young ones would, kind of slow and wobbly. And then he held out that bag as if it were an offering.
The man took the bag the boy offered and what he took out broke and mended my heart at the same time. It was a Lil Roy Plush stuffed DOG toy that was on clearance sale from the store we were sitting in front of.
And out of his mouth came words that brought tears to my eyes. "Now you can feel just like me".
The rest of the story, played out like you would expect. But it did inspire me to write a little something about what it must be like to walk the world next to this little boy.
Tiny shoes go tap tap slow,
Mama says we have to go.
People walking, big and small,
I keep asking about them all.
“Does that person feel like me?”
Daddy lifts me so I see.
“That man yelled loud inside the store.”
Maybe his heart is very sore.
“That lady sleeps out in the rain.”
Maybe her body hurts with pain.
Maybe her tummy cries all night.
Maybe she lost her warm safe light.
“That boy keeps pulling at his hair.”
Mama says, “Be soft. Be fair.”
Maybe sounds are big and sharp.
Maybe his days feel dark and hard.
“That grandma walks so very slow.”
Maybe her bones ache down below.
Maybe every step says “ow.”
But she still buys the groceries now.
“That man smells funny. Why’s he shake?”
Maybe something inside did break.
Maybe sadness got too deep,
And chased away his gentle sleep.
“That girl won’t look into my face.”
Maybe the world’s a scary place.
Maybe eyes are much too bright.
Maybe crowds feel loud and tight.
“That daddy cried inside his car.”
Mama says some hurts stay far
Inside your chest where none can see,
Even if you look happy.
“Does that person feel like me?”
I ask it by each tree and street.
Mama says, “In some small way,
Every heart can hurt someday.”
So if somebody acts “not right,”
Or growls, or cries, or wants to fight,
Maybe first we try to see
What pain they carry secretly.
And if I’m sad when I am big,
Or life becomes too hard to dig,
I hope somebody looks at me
And wonders gently…
“Do they feel like me?”
Gladly!
I'm just bummed that I won't be in the audience to see it.