Our house stands on a valley early summer evenings find people strolling specially when the sky is arrayed with countless stars, and a full moon cooperates with a glow
Who wouldn't want a rain-less evening? no rush...walking easy on a Friday or Saturday night finding ways to unwind....glasses tingle in toasting conversation and laughter fill the air...
In parts of the valley shielded by bridges and walls there live the troubled, homeless souls they, too, want to breathe the evening air they leave their improvised homes find dark spaces, where they turn bolder some toughened...almost numbed their litanies, held within their eyes, beyond shedding tears their faces stained with sadness and frustration due to failed expectations
Around these dark spaces are where callous eyes meet wary looks where angels mingle with demons where, most times, indifference wins against compassion.
Twice, i met the dauntless, black eyes of an old woman i almost dropped mine, to avoid the stare but she tapped my elbow...i looked up again.
Both of my shoulders would not suffice to ease the burden this old woman carried how do we deal with a problem that always starts but doesn't end? how? when most turn their faces, their backs, their thoughts away, because, there's nothing spectacular to see, or be expected just more unpleasant things to come up.
The rains have finally come...our valley most often, turns into a gully where it seems to be raining forever. i think of the old woman with black eyes if she's still around, could she be hungry? wet again? shivering from the cold rain? where could she be seeking shelter now that summer is finally over?