As North Africa heats up, people are disappearing from the streets to hide in their houses with drawn shades and fans.
But there are some who cannot hide.
Like the homeless sub-Saharan African man reclining in the shadow of a doorway. The despair in his eyes tore my heart.
Even worse is seeing that same despair in the face of a child. Like today, when I passed a family: a disabled father and a young mother with a toddler strapped to her back. The boy’s face was stricken with hopelessness.
I have so much. And I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about hope. Even in the valley, I can still see the mountain.
But what about them? What do they see beyond the next moment? What would cause them to lift their heads?
“Do we hear them?”
The child is weeping
because there is nothing,
not even a horizon.
His mother’s heart will not hear
because it won’t
be tricked by hope.
And every man’s disrobed dream
in the mire of the present.
Life is nothing
and beyond nothing is the dark
that dogs every moment.
Do we hear them?
They’re clawing at the gates of hell,
believing there’s nothing better.