There is always a homeless man in Pontiac on the corner of M-59 and The Loop. Sometimes, when I come home from school, he is standing there, in the cold, holding up a sign that reads:
Homeless. Please help.
I stare at him while the light is red, and think, “Hop in my car. Do you want to spend the night at my house tonight?” The light turns green.
But, I don’t stop.
Speeding by him, I wonder if my home can fit as many homeless people as my heart can hold. I imagine the possibilities.
Realistically, could I?
Not really, I reason, shrugging it off. The traffic is too fast, the expense is too much and I really need to get home.
I pass Grace Centers of Hope.
And, after that, I normally forget about the homeless man and his sign with his plea. My last thought is usually, “Jesus said to stop, so why don’t I?”
Because, I don’t want to.
Then, I feel the pang of guilt in my heart.
This prose poem is Copyright 2013 by Jessica Anne McLean. All rights reserved. File sharing is encouraged.
~Two Bible passages relevant to this poem are: Luke 10: 25-37 and Luke 14: 15-24~
The Rose 
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