Will They Be Seen

Her offering plate

a plastic cup extended

from neath her bowed head.

His place of worship 

a cold marble threshold 

upon which he offers his nightly prayers.

Their community of faith

grass, trees, stars, universe

with whom they commune alone.

The rest of us

pass by

leaving them unnoticed,

eyes diverted,

so as to not inconvenience ourselves

with their truth 

or to acknowledge 

the painful privilege of our own.

Before passing judgment,

before speaking a condescending word, 

before deciding they aren’t worth it,

remember 

they are someone’s child;

he is someone’s son;

she is someone’s daughter. 

All are the beloved.

Will they be seen 

today?

- bshivers