Passing By

I pass her by everyday.
Tired eyes
And a weary smile
Are her only adornments.
She looks toward me,
But, quickly, I turn the other direction.
I speed the pace of my walk,
Ignoring her cries for help, and
Her pleas for mercy.
“She deserves this,” I tell myself.
“She brought this fate upon herself.”
Suddenly, I hear a voice from heaven say:
“The Kingdom belongs to such as these.”
This poem © Kevin Walker. Published June 2012.

Facebook Comments