The eloquence of a dusty man as seen through the eyes of a child.
“Why does he sleep on the bench there, mom? Why doesn’t he live in a house?”
And mom, she struggles to find a way to answer the quizzical girl.
Guilt-ridden, she tries to hide her face in the face of what’s near and real.
“Baby girl,” she begins but loses her way realizing the words aren’t there.
Like a seizure within her very core, she gets caught up in the stare.
A stare from the eyes of a beautiful child with a simple interrogation for truth.
Is this her true station to turn away with her hand in the hand of the youth?
The arduous falter, the folly, the trap that we as a people have been plagued.
So easily do we turn our heads, our hearts, and walk away.
“For it is the one who is least among you all…” as written in the book of Luke.
To the reflection seen in the mirror is born the one who we should rebuke.