227th August 2024
Any Change
All around me
like a busy beehive, people hurrying this way and that,
chatter of voices,
announcements over the tannoy,
screeching of suitcase wheels dragged across the ground
the low hum of the escalator as if straining under the weight,
In the distance, probably out on the street,
could that be a busker singing folk songs?
The varied sounds of London Victoria Railway Station.
Though my head is bent over my journal,
my pen frenziedly recording family anecdotes
In time with the buzzing that surrounds me,
I become aware,
of Him.
Slowly, he approaches,
Comes near, a bit to near,
He asks,
"Any change to spare ma'am?"
I half look up, my pen still in motion,
I shake my head,
Look down,
Forget what I'm writing ,
but write anyway.
He moves away,
An empty space, his shape space, his form, lingers there,
in front of me.
I actually have no change,
Today.
Yet, what, I think, might I have done,
If I had.
As I ponder , I see, the Nat West Cash Machine,
Twenty yards away , maybe.
"Free Withdrawals " it says.
Could I, Should I,
have found some change?
Did he really need it, I wonder.
I pray he will have what he needs.
Grandpa always carries some cash to give. People tell him not to, as it gets spent on drugs or alcohol, but he says that's not his lookout, being generous is what The Lord wants him to do, so he gives and leaves it in The Lord's hand.
ReplyDeleteWe were outside the post office and a homeless woman asked for help, showed him her scars (he's a retired doctor). He gave her money, and a few weeks later, read she was one of the homeless people murdered that week. He'll always be glad he helped her when he had a chance.
Thank you Mimi. I think I'd like your grandad.
DeleteOn this occasion I was caught unawares . I would usually have engaged the young man in conversation and helped if I could. I'm not sure why I reacted the way I did.