The Line by Dianna French

He came through the line

Head bowed, so thin

His straight black hair covered his face

He didn’t look up

Just took his food and sat down

He held the hot drink tight, plucked at the bread

So thin, so young, so forsaken

Then he was gone

Can’t we do better?  Can’t we do better?

(Salvation Army Center of Hope, Louisville, KY

Poem written following Dianna’s shift

serving on the soup line,

January 11, 2010)