Snapshot
I have seen him many times
Throughout the years
And given him money
Not loose change either
Tens and twenties to help him out
Some days I watch him
From across the street
And take a snapshot of him
In my mind…
The soles of both shoes
Have worn almost through
His pants are stained – soiled -
And covered with holes
And his dingy plaid shirt missing buttons
All except for a few
That are fastened
With carefree attention
His hands are dirt-covered
As black as the earth
His face unshaven
And scruffy – unwashed
His hair knotted
Gray like a mop
His front teeth missing
The rest were all rotten
And when he talks
It is to himself
He mumbles
But his words whistle
Through his absent teeth
Sometimes I cross the street
Then sit
Beside him
I don’t say a word
I close my eyes and
Listen to him tell
Wild stories
His breath reeks of liquor
He had been badly injured
In 1969 – Fort Jackson, South Carolina
When he accidentally fired his rifle
While cleaning it during training
He didn’t remember loading
Or unloading it
The bullet lodged in his brain
And changed him forever
He recalls pieces of his childhood
His Dad getting plastered – beating him
Telling him he is worthless
His brother crying in the corner
Thinking he might be next
His mother dated other men
He sees his brother getting a draft notice
To fight the war
He remembers joining the military
To be with his brother
Protect him
His brother – who came home a hero!
There is nothing to deal
With the pain of his past
The memories he cannot forget
I tell him he is not worthless
Every time
But he doesn’t hear me
As I stand up and give him money
My brother
My hero...
...
My brother's blind eyes
shall never see the sun - yet
maple leaves are red.
...
Copyright © July 2000 Jason S. Moore
...
Newer Poems
Fire Giver
Serendipity
Tributes
My Other Poetry Sites
About the Poet JS Moore
Release
Survivor
