01-10-2016, 12:43 AM
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”
--Fred Rogers
They slow to stare as they pass
by, leaving you feeling stupid,
alone, stranded in the cold
morning rain. Yet you wave
your arms for help.
The exploded tire has no hope
for repair. Your child lay sleeping,
unaware, nested in a pile
of clothes and a soft jacket,
but no car seat.
As I open my car door
and move the seat helping
you both in -- you exclaim confusion
why did I stop, when did no one else stop?
The others are scalded by memories of
unearned swindles, rebuffs, unfair returns. They fear
danger, even murder.
Fear, fear is why they look only to their own. Helping
makes one vulnerable.
You sounded relieved to label me a helper after
I reluctantly explained I was a doctor
(people don't always like doctors).
I have hated labels as limiting but this one
I add to the ones I hold to myself:
Doctor, husband, father, and helper.
Original:
When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”
--Fred Rogers
Passing cars leave you feeling stupid.
Arms you wave for help, as you're stranded in
rain and cold with an exploded tire;
and your child sleeps, sheltered, with no
car seat. It was me who stopped
'Long the median, confused you, helped you
early that morning.
That none other did stop
except me I explained: Helping makes you vulnerable. Everyone is afraid, and Looks to their own.
You even furnished me with a new label
to explain to yourself why I stopped.
Uxor, pater, doctor, now helper.
--Fred Rogers
They slow to stare as they pass
by, leaving you feeling stupid,
alone, stranded in the cold
morning rain. Yet you wave
your arms for help.
The exploded tire has no hope
for repair. Your child lay sleeping,
unaware, nested in a pile
of clothes and a soft jacket,
but no car seat.
As I open my car door
and move the seat helping
you both in -- you exclaim confusion
why did I stop, when did no one else stop?
The others are scalded by memories of
unearned swindles, rebuffs, unfair returns. They fear
danger, even murder.
Fear, fear is why they look only to their own. Helping
makes one vulnerable.
You sounded relieved to label me a helper after
I reluctantly explained I was a doctor
(people don't always like doctors).
I have hated labels as limiting but this one
I add to the ones I hold to myself:
Doctor, husband, father, and helper.
Original:
When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”
--Fred Rogers
Passing cars leave you feeling stupid.
Arms you wave for help, as you're stranded in
rain and cold with an exploded tire;
and your child sleeps, sheltered, with no
car seat. It was me who stopped
'Long the median, confused you, helped you
early that morning.
That none other did stop
except me I explained: Helping makes you vulnerable. Everyone is afraid, and Looks to their own.
You even furnished me with a new label
to explain to yourself why I stopped.
Uxor, pater, doctor, now helper.