The first time I saw death outside of a funeral home was 11:57 on a Tuesday. I was walking down the street near my office building when I spot two officers up ahead. They are standing by a man laying in the middle of the sidewalk. It’s slushy and cold. An ambulance pulls up, no siren. Two paramedics emerge. One talks to the cops while the other pushes the mans face back and forth a few times, examining it. A few feet away, tourists are snapping pictures of the Old State House across the street, as if they can’t see the dead man lying next to him.
But I’ve seen him. Every morning walking to work, and every evening walking back. He huddled by the granite wall of a bank. He had a dirty pom pom hat and layers on layers of grimy gray clothes. I can’t tell what leaves him laid out by his usual spot. As I get closer and closer I become more and more furious at the callous people so determined to get the perfect shot of a building that is photographed a thousand times a day they don’t noticed him. It begins to sink in that I saw him every day, and maybe that was worse.
a white sheet covers
what some refuse to see, or
let their eyes pass over
*******
Another Dverse prompt that let me get out a poem that’s been lurking in my mind for far too long.
Everyday Strange 
How is it that you are not published, that there are not volumes of you words lining my walls !
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Saw the first line or two of this in my Reader which drew me in , compelled me to read, this is as writing should be, by a writer who knows how to; a good one, indeed.
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Thank you for your kind words.
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Oh gosh, to see him there–then to know you’ve seen him many times before, but never really knew him . . .as other people just ignored his body as he had probably been ignored while living.
I’m glad my prompt helped you to get the poem out.
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Yes, it is a very intense memorial that I have wanted to put into words for a while. Thank you again for the inspiration!
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You are very welcome.
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Chilling.
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Powerful–and even more so with the photo and the poem, both. Nice.
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Thank you!
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Reblogged this on Frank J. Tassone and commented:
#Haiku Happenings #7: L. Stevens’ latest #haibun for #dversepoets #HaibunMonday!
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Behind covered eyes
I finally see her cry
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Certainly describes my reaction to the experience.
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:_( Well-written
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Thank you, it’s much appreciated.
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