Eyes Open...

Sometimes, things happen that leave their mark and one morning last week, that happened.

I was walking to work along the footpath towards the bridge, with my head down and my head cluttered with a hundred and one thoughts. As I neared the bridge, I heard a man's voice shouting, very loudly. I have never reacted too well to the sound of men's raised voices so I cursed under my breath, ''will you just be quiet'' and carried on walking, keeping my head down.

As I looked up, in order to cross the road, I caught sight of him, propped up against the wall at the foot of the bridge, still shouting and waving his arms in the air. I couldn't see any further than the sound he was making, but suddenly I noticed...what was actually going on.

About two feet behind him I saw his motorised wheelchair, trapped behind a roadworks sign. He had staggered out of his chair and was trying deperately to draw the attention of the workmen about 100 yards down the road.It was bitterly cold, noisy and he looked extremely grey in colour, was so obviously ill.

I was so ashamed that I had failed to assess what was happening and I went to help him. Better late than never I suppose but I felt so bad. I ran to a workman, who used wire cutters to remove the sign from the path as it was attached to the wall.All the while the poor man was in distress, in the cold. We helped him back into his chair and he was able to continue his painful journey... that is called his life.

As I made my way on my own journey, he shouted again and this time I responded with an open-mind...''bless you'' he said. It was then that the tears came. All the way along the beach on my route to work.
Yes, the sign shouldn't have been placed so thoughtlessly, and yes, there were probably other people passing in cars and on foot who failed to stop and assist, and yes, maybe he shouldn't have made the journey in the extreme cold...

But despite all those things,although watching, I was not really looking, and he was...
''not waving but drowning''

Stevie Smith - Not Waving But Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.