Listening to Injustice

They're beautiful people, they really are.
I love to hear them talking.
I could listen to them all day and night.
Their jumbled words:
Their slurred words:
Their repeated words:
It's what makes their story.


I listened to their story tonight.
I watched their faces.
I saw them go from place to place with nobody but themselves
and the voices in their heads.
Society does them an injustice.
Does no one care?
They have no family
no job
no money
no means to support themselves
no means to get what they need.

How can we go about our lives
watching our big screened televisions
while these people cannot buy their meds?
How can we drive around in our cars
while these people don't even have a place to go?
Injustice.

Does no one love these people?
Love them enough to care for them?
Give them a place to stay
Give them their medicine
Give them sanity
Give them freedom.
Injustice.

I have no money to give them.
I have no place for their tired heads.
But I listen.
At least I listen to their story
of hardship
of loneliness
of pain
of despair
of slavery
of injustice.

The least we can do is listen
to their beautiful voices,
and look in their vulnerable eyes,
and see in them the love and compassion
we wished we had ourselves.

Does no one care?
Does no one love?
Injustice.

Just listen.