I walked out of my building in the usual hurry
right before me
the meth junkie
turned into a tumbleof disjointed muscle contortions
"poor thing"
I thought
he was so high
it was painful to see
and he was so sensitive
rather than me moving in fear
away from him
he moved in fear away from me
to be that high
is to be so sensitive
that even the smallest
of feelings can be overwhelming
memories stilled insided me
all i could hope is that he would find
a grace that i have been given
a gift of grace we can only give ourselves
if we can only receive it
"be safe, good soul"
"find peace, go with grace"
as I offered my meagre prayers
"be safe..."
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