FORGOTTEN

I saw you on 97th Street, You could barely be seen

Wrapped up in a bundle

Frightened, pushed in the corner.

I could feel your sorrow, you were so alone, scared.

Something was wrong, I could feel it.

Something was not right.

We were standing on the street

Eating our pizza from Famiglia

When your body slowly started

moving.

I don’t think your hair was cut by your will, but you

weren’t healthy, so I don’t think you had a choice

You barely had hair, only sores between the

uneven cut hair.

You looked up, but it was very clear

that you didn’t see anything.

You were not there.

You seemed far away, not present

as if you couldn’t see, didn’t want to see.

Your body was so tiny, you felt like

a little girl. But you were filled with sorrow

and pain and bitter.

You were alone

scarred, broken

I could suddenly not swallow anymore

my throat completely closed

Nausea overwhelmed me.

I was completely numbed by your sorrow

by your presence

by you.

Your brokenness overwhelmed me

Where’s your family, the people who

once loved and cared for you

Where are they.

Why have they stopped, do they even know

you are alive

Do they even care

What is your name, I wonder if you still know

If they still know.

To love and be loved are so easily taken for

granted.

The love we were given to share and love with

are so easily kept to ourselves, fenced off, forgotten

We so easily create limitations and preconditions

to the love we were given to love with.

We so easily show love away, turn our backs on it

on them.

We so easily forget to give the one thing we were

given to give away.