The first time I met you
you were standing outside the Food Co-op next to Johnny,
holding a little cardboard sign that read:
“Anything Helps.”
How many pause to think: Who is behind that sign?
Or even care to know?
Or stop to talk, to listen, to find out.

We never talked a lot, Edwin.
You were often in distress.
You’d tell me of the pain
of one kind or another you experienced.
But you never complained, and didn’t dwell on it.
Rather, we would chat about this & that,
the weather perhaps.
But for me, it wasn’t about what was said.
Much more than that— the smile of greeting
each time I approached; the quiet voice; the gentle spirit
that stood there next to me, always made me feel welcome.
I felt sorry for all the walkers-by,
the drivers coming out of the Co-op parking lot—no smiles
on their faces—who would never get to know you.
I feel grateful that I did, if only in these brief encounters.

To be honest, I do not know for sure
if there is such a place as Heaven. But if there is, Edwin,
you will meet all your brothers and sisters there.
Because, I am sure
they will, in their own time, be there with you.
May I meet you there too, once more.

Robert Komishane
10/31/2019