towards peace

i see him
on the corner.
unwashed,
with hands
on his ears.
his mouth sewn
tight with lips
and a ragged
set of chops.
his shopping
cart is full of
nothing, full
of everything.
and his hair
has no reason
to be so thick
and wild, but
it is, as are
his blue eyes.
bluer than hope,
bluer than the
sea or sky.
a dollar won't
help, nor a
sandwich or
drink. it may
only prolong
his journey
towards peace.