I saw a homeless woman on the street today.
She was temporarily sheltered from the wind by sitting inside an offset entrance but it did nothing to offset the chill in the air.
In her face I saw youth and future held back by fear and shame,
A sharp discomfort on the side of the pavement,
The air biting more than she had in a week.
I moved to drop a pound coin into a polystyrene cup
Held outwards in a need to be noticed yet at the same time closer to her,
As if the money would somehow protect her from the current reality of her life.
As I started towards her, she glanced up and the time slowed as she realised I was intentionally walking in her direction.
She struggled to reflect her emotions as I held out the coin,
A smile setting her face alight with shock and hope while her eyes were extinguishers
Spraying only shame and embarrassment.
Her right hand touched her heart as she mouthed a 'thank you',
As if her voice had been stolen, not only metaphorically.
I found myself wishing her a good night, a prospect we both knew was a lie,
A mask I wore to normalise the situation, as if it should be acceptable that some spend their nights on concrete rather than cotton.
To my surprise, she found her voice, faintly returning the goodwill,
Taking everything she didn't have and giving it to me.
I was too far down the street to turn around and give her the food I had in a bag hanging at my waist,
Give her back what she couldn't give me but did anyway.
Give her anything I could.
I walked on, bitter in my lack of thought.
There are trees growing on the tall buildings in the city.
If you believe someone is lower than you, understand that perhaps you are a tall building
And they a great tree.