A Poem: The Red Scarf
“I like your red scarf.” the worn lady said as she looked at the ground which served as her bed.
Our eyes never met though her words hung in my ears,
and as I walked on they became sharp and clear.
Rushing back to her corner she was still there - I gave her my scarf which she wrapped round her hair.
She looked up at me from her home on the ground, her words were soft so I knelt myself down.
“You didn’t just listen you heard what I said. It’s the warmth I was craving not the beautiful red.”
The gloves on my hands came off as well and I stood up to leave this poor woman’s hell.
As I walked away she called, “Come see me again! I’m always right here.” But she left that corner with me that day and in my mind is held dear.
This encounter happened while I lived in Northern California and was visiting my beloved San Francisco during the holiday season. The woman's spot was on one of the corners of Union Square between Macy's and FAO Schwartz (when it was still open). I was wearing my scarf and gloves because it was cold but lets face it, they were also accessories that were on to enhance my outfit. My brother had been homeless as well, and I always had an interest in aiding those that were needy. After this, and in memory of both my brother and this woman, I began crocheting scarves every year to hand out to the homeless.
I think about this woman all of the time and wish she knew how powerful she was, and that her life had worth.