I STAND: USELESS STRANGER
Updated: Dec 31, 2022
A small girl kneels outside the pharmacy
and vomits quietly from a stomach, already empty,
into the snow that sticks to Canterbury Street.
Her mum, knees of her jeans wet,
holds the girl’s hair back,
pulling out tissues from anorak pockets
and whispering words to keep the girl safe
and to keep the girl warm.
I offer my help, my hand, my scarf.
Her mum shakes her head.
She doesn’t need my stuff but she takes the hug
like a gust of love from the cut of the cold
and we both lean in.
She’s scared, she says, of another long night
afraid and alone with her shadow-eyed child
and only the promise
of waiting lists and waiting lines,
of online forms and GP calls
and A&E as a last resort.
I nod to the mum and the girl
and wish them good luck and mutter goodbye.
Thank you, her mum says with a sigh.
Luck is all you have if you’re cold and sick and only a kid.
And a car speeds past through the winter wet slush;
two boys in Santa hats laugh at the splash
but I catch her last line
as it hangs in the air,
defying its weight.
I've learnt that we're living
in dangerous times.
