He had spotted her a few times before,

stooping

shuffling

unkempt,

carrying her few meagre possessions in plastic.

A bag lady

lowest of the low

probably on drugs.

Imagine letting yourself drift into such a state.

 

Now he shuts his eyes

so he doesn’t have to see her

labouring past his path.

For this is his first night

on the streets.

 

That his life should have come to this!

He an ex-soldier

working in computers

a husband and doting father.

Redundancy had hit hard

worse, his marriage breakup,

no work to be found

sanctioned from any money

due to a cancelled train,

forced to pay for a room

authorities deem spare

in spite of his children

who stayed weekends.

An ever increasing downward spiral...

until the eviction...

And now this

a sleeping bag

a cardboard box

a hard pavement.

 

Two younger guys stop by

give him a hot drink

and some advice,

they know the score

tell him the best places,

offer him a spliff

which he refuses.

“It can help you forget, man,”

says one as they leave.

 

When they have gone

he wonders,

are people on the streets

because they drink or take substances?

Or do they do this stuff

because they are on the streets?

 

Interrupting his thoughts,

the bag lady returns,

“You did the right thing,”

she says with kindness,

“one thing I never did,  

never took drugs.”

Humbled, ashamed,

he believes her.

“Thank you,” is all he can say

as she passes once more on her way...