Unwanted Solicitor, or
Failing to see Humanity Behind the Hand
by Deborah J. Brasket
He stood there, a youth from poorer quarters,
Eyes wide and wary, flecked with glints uncertain.
His face was full and rich and filled my doorway;
Beyond–the grass, the street–they filled my eyes.
Words that stumbled forward fell to cement.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help,” I calmly lied.
I saw his eyes dull, his face turn narrow
I closed the door, my heart, my hand to him.
I watched him as he walked to other doorways,
To plead his practiced words to polished “no’s”.
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So beautiful, profound & earnest! I loved it 🙂
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Thank you!
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I couldn’t help but find this poem sad. My heart goes out to the young boy. But I praise you for giving me this emotion! Well done! 🙂
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It is a sad poem, and sadly true. I wrote it after a similar incident. I have forever tried to treat every “unwanted solicitor” more humanely, even when I am not able to help them in the way they want.
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I love your combination of words and photo! Keep up the good work!
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Thank you!
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Always more tragic when the writer implicates herself.
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Yes, don’t I know it!
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Oh, so incredibly true… Polish, polish, and polish as I might, I can never seem to remove all the grit and grime from those “no’s”…. Even now your poem dredges those feelings up from an underprivileged boy of some group or another selling magazines at my door a month ago… I feel as though my “no” fell to the ground in his perfectly shaped footprints as he walked away…
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I felt the same way watching him leave. I remember once as a teen going out to sell magazine subscriptions in a business area and leaving one store with a “no.” I was half-way down the block when the man chased me down and bought a subscription. He’d felt so bad about the “no.” I never forgot that.
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beautifully written, about a really tough thing … something we’ve all experienced
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Thank you.
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this is so poignant, almost uncomfortably honest,
and so well written, nicely done.
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We have all been in your shoes, Deborah, and looked away. Thanks for voicing this.
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