Hidden Lives

         Down an old street walked a life, among the old houses of brick and past designs now past that lined either side of the street. Where busy distracted humanity from this one lone life; distracted all but me. Down an old street on a hot day this wanderer made their way. Searching for solace somewhere, a place to be accepted and belong; been there, long ago.


          In the middle of a day, where one says, “Achieve.” And another says, “Get to.” , I see this hidden life missed in the mad rush down an old street. I am not better, better than any other. I have thought, “Achieve.”, “Get to.”, and these are bad; though as I look again at that moment in time I wonder why I was that busy. Wonder why I didn’t take time, make a more intentional action to be kind (even if it was simply to notice and offer empathy), maybe even pray for these hidden lives, regardless of where the life was a cat like this, or a person.


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