Strength
I consider myself a strong person.
Someone with fortitude and grit.
Someone who can deal with whatever
Life has to throw at me.
However,
There is this guy
Who lives in my neighborhood.
He doesn’t have an address.
He lives on the street.
For the past fifteen years I have
Passed this guy on the street,
No matter the weather.
His pants hiked up way too high,
His shoes ragged and torn,
With an odor you’d expect of someone
Living in the wilds of the city.
Fifteen years
Surviving on the street.
Now, that is what I call fortitude.
That is what I call grit.
That is what I call strength.
Roy W. Backes
© 2018
Roy W. Backes - Poetry 