I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you,
in the soiled coat and blue jeans,
shuffling along the subway station,
praying for money from heaven.
I was on the phone, in a different
world, hoping you wouldn’t ask me,
but you did. I repeated the line
older than your shoes: “I don’t have
any money.” I lied. My pockets
could have fed you for a week.
I told myself I was afraid
of you, that you were really a
druggie lying about hunger,
that you were waiting for me to show
my wallet before snatching it, or
any number of sordid scenarios.
As you shuffled away, I felt dirty,
but tried to forget. But I can’t.
You were Lazarus and I was the rich man.
I didn’t recognize Christ beneath your skin.
God of the Subway Station, please
forgive me. I will find you if I can.
Patrick Morgan is a Louisiana-based writer originally from Watertown, New York. His poems have appeared or are appearing in, among other venues, the Catholic Poetry Room and Footnote: A Literary Journal of History. His writings about poetry can be found in We Are Already One: Thomas Merton's Message of Hope: Reflections to Honor His Centenary (Fons Vitae), The Pocket Instructor: Literature (Princeton University Press), and The Pocket Instructor: Writing (Princeton University Press).
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