poetry

The Enemy.

{source}

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Of a friend’s dire situation,

she listens hours

upon hours upon

wiping tears

and making her

comfort food.

 

Months later,

same good listener

is in a rare bind.

But same friend

too preoccupied to

give her the time of day;

not even a minute

nor a shred of empathy.

 

Man driving,

his two kids in the back.

A jam of traffic

dominates his route.

He slows and waves

in a car.

Car speeds in

without so much

as a thank you;

and the next car

peels out

quickly after,

and the next.

No waves,

no friendly gestures,

just a taking advantage of

one man’s good nature.

 

Very pregnant woman,

toddler in tow

and shopping bags full,

hurries to catch the guy

barely ahead

so she doesn’t have to

pull the heavy door

with her hands-

neither of which is free.

She makes it

a second behind.

But not caring

to notice her or child,

he goes through and

hastily lets go of the door.

Now she is forced to stop,

take a breath,

put the bags down,

tell her son to

stay right there,

and strenuously tug it open.

 

A young couple walking,

big city lights all around,

pass an aged homeless man,

his hat upside down

toward them,

toward anyone on the street.

She fumbles in her purse

for $10 as well as

loose change

and without hesitation,

gives it with a smile.

Evening late, same couple

is rewarded with

their home,

a hundred miles away,

being robbed.

Many precious keepsakes

taken, their personal

space violated.

 

A brisk September day,

a young girl on her way

to class at the college of

her dreams.

A boy, fellow student presumably,

appears lost

in his dark layered clothing.

She innocently approaches

and asks if he

needs help

finding his class

or certain person.

She seems to see

her blood gushing gut

before she hears

the shot;

then another…

Screams, terrified feet

scamper to

escape the rage

the gun inflicts

for him.

 

Excuses, reasons,

rationale for motives,

there are none.

No matter what is said

after the fact.

For money, for drugs,

for a skin’s color,

for a preference,

for getting ahead,

for things,

for lack of attention —

Don’t pretend

one of those

can justify.

They are not the enemy.

 

Human beings,

being inhumane,

do this to each other;

continuing down

a vicious path,

stretching inconsiderate

 to the inconceivable.

Some human beings

are the enemy;

When if only

they looked around,

really opened

their eyes,

They could

instead

be a friend.

 

*****

LaurenHurdLauren Hurd is an adoring mother and wife living a simple, joyous life.  There is nothing she holds more precious than family and uninhibited love.  Each day she explores the divulging of the soul through writing.  She also revels in dancing, dreaming, bursting creativity, home cooked food, the beach, and the beauty of butterflies.

 

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