city

by walterdoege

I feel city as a dangerous region…almost any city…city bigger, danger bigger…people die…what kill people, however, is lack of food and love…when I touch with my eyes and soul the abandoned people on the streets…when I see the media marketing promoting alcohol abuse and car sell…when I know that in contemporary world one child dies in each six seconds cause lack of food…I cry…and I try…my daily trials…I try to do my work…I will not save the world, the people…I alone can not…this get me down in deep blue…even crying I pray for all…I care those that i can care as physician…as a person…yesterday night, cominh from hospital, I see a child and her mother…I cried…I talk with her and the mother was sad, exhausted…the baby smiled for me…I wanted to get them with me for my home…i gave bread and milk that I purchased on market and I said her that she would seek and albergue, give her a little money to get the taxi I was and they accepted and I let them in an albergue…I do this every time i can…what kill people is lack of food and love…all of us live in a frontier between barbarie and civilization…I don’t like to put other tunes on my writing here, but people live in a dangerous world and the cities are dangerous…what kill people is abandon, refuse, discrimination, lack of food. lack of compassion, but only love brings life and hope…in any person…anonymous persons…I see hope and hope never dies…as a writer I can write this, as a citizen I am in peace with my conscience of what I do and will always do till my death…facing this real global scene recquires acts and pray…share love is decisive help…I am a beggar…I have nothing…I have no thing, but I share love…back to my home I could not sleep well…problem of mine…the only civilization proof if pain analgesic for body pain…soul pain I support and I continue my only duty free: one smile in an abandoned person, one help for the world…we never were modern…the modern is an artifact…modern does not exist…tragedy is not a number nor words…this tragedy is real…facing death, facing pain, facing suffering…my work…perhaps I could live in the forest…near Walden Lake…no…my path is other, loving is my path and I hope I am not alone…I don’t like this writing, but is a need to me to write it and work…till my last goodbye