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

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