Who was that man?

A few years ago working in the city centre of Belfast I often passed a homeless person sleeping in a doorway. It prompted to me write this poem.

Who was that man I passed today?
Slumped in an abandoned doorway
Alone, unkempt, dirty even.
Alcohol, urine, blood and death reeked to heaven.
Who was that man I passed today?
A down and out or tramp?
A drunk, a loser, a bum?

Was he that father who once played football in the park with his kids?
Or pushed them on the swings?
Did he wipe their tears and runny noses, read them adventure stories?

Was he that husband who once brought home on Fridays red roses for his wife?

Or curled up on the sofa and stroked her soft hair?
Did they talk of their great plans for the future , whisper sweet nothings?

Was he that son a mother once was so proud of on the day he was born?
Or bounced him on her knee and curled him into her breast?

Tucked him in at night, planted butterfly kisses on his ruddy cheek, sang sweet lullabies?

Who was that man I passed today?
Slumped in an abandoned doorway
Alone, unkempt dirty even.
Alcohol, urine, blood and death reeked to heaven.
Who was that man I passed today?
A lover a husband, a father?
A friend, a brother, a son?

Words Subject to copyright. No reproduction in whole or part is permitted without the author's permission.

Amanda Mair