Burke, Fairfax, Fairfax Station,
green and rolling suburban hills,
traffic-choked highways…
Steamy kitchens,
endless lines of
weary, hungry
men and women
dressed in ragged hand-me-downs,
hauling their whole lives
in weighty parcels-backpacks
and garbage bags…
It’s a long way
from leafy suburbs
to the cold heart of a city-
not in miles,
but in the contrary images
seen by eyes
on opposite sides
of a counter.
A young girl hands a plate,
piled high with a life—sustaining meal
into gnarled hands;
“thank you” and “you’re welcome”
are exchanged, a quick link made,
then it’s time
to serve the next;
there are so many
hungry faces.
The girl has no time to wonder
where each one sleeps at night
or where they find sanctuary
from drenching rain and icy winds-
there are so many
hungry faces.
Evening comes;
the children of Burke and Fairfax
sit in comfort,
pens and notebooks in hand.
I sit here with them,
sharing their comfort,
waiting to hear
how they’ve been touched
by this morning’s hungry souls.
I sit here with memories
of a thousand mornings
standing frozen, hungry, and weary
with my whole life
hanging from my shoulders,
awaiting a life-sustained meal
and, hopefully, a smile
from one of the children
of Burke and Fairfax
