An old woman falls to the street
clutching with arthritic hands to the gnarled cane—
her one possession.
She cries out faintly, raising a trembling arm
upward, beseeching God for some merciful passerby
to raise her up once more.
But no one stopped, no one looked
at the old beggar as she died
in the filth of the gutter.
The world kept spinning round and round,
and men in clean business suits made their way
to and from work, hurrying back and forth
in a daily pursuit toward nowhere.
No one slowed their pace for a moment
to stop and wonder who that old woman was,
that decrepit creature of the streets.
And in that one eternal second, all of Heaven stopped,
and God began to weep.