Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Poem: Begging


You are not accustomed to beggars,
and they disturb you,
reminding you of how much you have,
and of your own time as a beggar,

not for money, but for love,
for worth in another's eyes,
for hope to build on,
for things that were never to come,

and less valuable than you believed, less
vital to survival than you imagined, less
yours to earn than another's to grant,

and you remember how it all changed,
not by a gift, but
by your own understanding
that your worth is not another's to judge,

but yours and God's alone.


The photograph was taken in Venice, Italy. You can click on it for a larger version.



ev said...

soulful poem..

The lady in Red said...

wow... A very beautiful poem that makes us think a lot! You know Tom that once I met by chance a friend here on the street, we both saw a woman lying down on the pavement. Then she asked me if the woman was fine. I told her it was commom to see that kind of thing...well, after waking up the woman we found out that the woman wasn´t a beggar, as we see a lot in São Paulo. She had gone to the hospital very early and coming back to the underground she felt dizzy because she hadn´t eaten anything for many hours.I bought her a plastic packet of orange juice and a very big sandwich. I felt myself very bad, but unfortunately we are accostumed to see beggars everywhere here. It is really sad and makes us think over....
Thanks for posting!
Take care,

Tom Atkins said...

I think, when we see anything, no matter how bad it is, a lot, we become to think of it as normal. Yet... when we stop to think of it, that normal may not be good. It can happen in a situation like yours Rosa, or in how we let things happen in our own lives simply because they are normal to us, but perhaps not good for us.

I am glad I made you think.