- Books, Literature, and Writing
Inventory Post- Mortem
A small scar squats
an ugly slash
that mars his now cold flesh,
tattooed there by a bullet
where healing didn't mesh.
A souvenir of wartime
when his breath of life was fresh.
His eyes stare blankly upward
with that empty three mile stare
much like two glistening marbles
each reflecting nothing there.
Hands rough and calloused from hard work
no rich man's fingers these
and prayers brought tough spots also
to the flesh atop his knees.
His face still held the lines of
character that's seldom seen
someone who believed in fighting
for other people's dreams.
His clothes were torn and tattered
with worn out shoes and soles,
plus no I.D. to name him just
some scars, wrinkles and moles.
Perhaps a vet but no one's sure
there was no solid proof,
as the coroner performed his job
so calmly and aloof.
His age bout 53 they'd guessed
when clobbered on the street,
that left his body quite a mess,
from a life so bittersweet.
He'd dashed to save a toddler
who'd suddenly slipped away
from her mom's hand she'd wandered
to the face of death that day.
Something mystique sparked the hero
buried deep inside this man
as he scrambled from his cardboard box,
with a most heroic plan.
To help this child ...do one good thing
that would perhaps save face
for a man who was down on his luck
his life, complete disgrace.
in split seconds he reached the child
his fingers stretching out
her momma's face reflecting fear
his last sound was her shout.
one precious child pushed to the curb
as a garbage truck roared by
then one bundle of crumpled flesh
was launched into the sky.
A sickening crunch of flesh and bone
and concrete filled the air
as suddenly this vagrant's life,
was taken from him there.
The angels gathered up his soul
and dusted off the grime
then whispered comfort in his ear
saying softly.."Come, it's time."
Minutes later he was carried to
a place beyond belief,
with no suffering, thirst or hunger
only answers to his grief.
With one large mansion given
to this caring, humble man
who had left behind his poverty,
and took up God's health plan
While down below his flesh was sliced
examined and then sent
off to be cremated
at a place all homeless went.
Into potter's field he'd go
in a numbered plot they'd lay
all that he had left behind
when he saved a life that day.
That little toddler never knew
the story of this man
scaring her with death's close call
was not his mother's plan.
But every year upon that day
when her child almost died
she placed a daisy on his grave
and whispered with a sigh..
"I will not ever know your name
but you were quite a guy..
yet someday I will thank you
when it comes my time to die."
Such selfless acts so often
go unnoticed by us all
and so I penned this little tale
to mark one heroes fall.