Just a Day
I see the same homeless guy on my way home from work
I want to stop and tell him hi, I want to find out why he’s hurt
I want to listen to his story and let him know I care, but I won’t.
What happened to your mother? Where’s your best friend?
Aint there nobody to protect you? Who’s your brother in all this?
I know he’s missing somebody, but are they missing him?
I want to stop and soak it all in.
We had the same education, you went to school with my sister Jen.
We have a strange fascination with putting you in a pen.
And the stains on your suit remind me how much effort I take
to keep mine clean.
God’s storehouse is when I saw you first.
You stood nicely in line but I couldn’t feed your thirst.
I was handing out food and you said you had
no fridge to keep it in.
All life’s a story of God’s great love but tell me
why is life so gory, it’s surely not from above.
Was there ever a time when you could have kept
your world from crashing all the way down?
If you’re the thermometer, then God is a fire
And our hair and our skin are a simple reminder
That hope’s a thing with feathers…
Even now in flammable times.
I see the same homeless guy on my way home from work.
I want to stop and tell him hi, I want to find out why he’s hurt.
I want to listen to his story and let him know I care…
and just maybe today I will.
Brett Jordan Schmoll’s poetry has appeared in Orpheus, Mojave Heart, Rabid Oak, and Writing Sound. He has also written for the Journal of Appalachian Studies and the Journal of Spanish Cultural Studies. He teaches in San Luis Obispo, CA, and plays guitar in a teacher band.