Change for the Poor

I see them and I know their names.

I want to help,

Want to hold out my hands,

Give my life,

Make it new--

But I'm scared.

Done when I have not yet begun,

Swallowed up in myself,

I don't want to see

Or remember

Or hear.

Do they care?

They know I don't dare

To walk out

And converse

And immerse in their lives.

Have they forgotten my face?

That I was even there?

Does that matter to me?

Do I notice or am I too

Busy to look at this laundry list

Of things that need completion,

Participation

Of things that need to be checked off,

Crossed out,

Never relived.

Never redone.

Never reknown.

This change cannot go away

Like the weather or dark,

We must mark this spot

Of where we stepped out and made a difference.

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