How One Asks
There are two kinds of beggars out there.
The man crouching with legs flayed, leaning back on ashy crutches and scarred clothing extends his hand for help. When he receives it, he gives thanks, pressing the coins to his head with wrinkled hands in a prayer.
The insolent child, marches up overstating the pitiful act of bringing food to the mouth. When he receives coins he looks at them disparagingly, as if he cannot believe the smallness of the sum paid out. Without acknowledgement of the receipt, he makes the same hand to teeth, grinding teeth gestures. Follows. Nags. Annoys.
I’m tired of people trying to make me feel responsible. I am not responsible. I am only human. The giving comes out of compassion, not guilt. If anyone should feel guilty it is the parents of these poor children who brought them into this world, then thrust them into the harsh vagaries of the street.
Guilt is consistent. Compassion is in the moment.