Look at the faces
of the least among us-
three bright-eyed girls
skipping rope behind a chainlink fence
on a field sown
with rusted needles
and shards of bottles
A young mother
kneeling with a scrub brush
washing away
years of grime
a stooped old man
trudging a grocery cart
bearing all the artifacts
of a full and turbulent life,
swollen feet
bursting out of rotting shoes.
Look at the faces
of all these
mothers, sons, wives, grandfathers.
Do not offer
scraps of moldy bread
or threadbare garments
worn by six generations of bodies;
do not offer
pockets full of spare change
or tears
of leftover pity.
Look at the faces
of the least among us,
see how they mirror yours-
you who are
a sister, daughter, cousin, son,
friend
to someone
just like those
who wander deserts,
looking for
a drop
to quench their thirst.
