A boy ofnineteen shuffles along
on his way to an unknowndestination;
he carries on his back a black bag
thecontents of which most people will
never see
I noticethe kid; you've probably seen him too
kicking rocks andguarding himself from the wind
that blows in his face.
He takes a rest and slowly unzips
the blackknapsack
but there isn't anything in it
that I cansee
no food, not even water
that can sustain andstrengthen his body
on his long walk.
I notice himsitting on the side of the road
head in hands, shouldersslumped
alone in life.
Nobody pulls over in acar
to help.
Maybe all he needs is someone to
talkto him.
Then he sluggishly gets
up and shuffles on
and I know what's in that bag
but I don'ttell
nobody else has to suffer that kind of life
sothey'll have to find out in their own ways
Oh, and I'm surethey'll give up
if they even bother to try
and that iswhat pushes him down again
to the point where he almostcan't get up.
Weakness seeps into his pores and drags himdown;
his heart falls into the cracks in thepavement
and I turn my head;
I can't bear to watch him,but
I pull over
to help.
I take his hand
andpull him up.
Together we search for his soul
maybesomeday we'll find it again.