On The Trail Poem by Sidi Mahtrow

He stood before us
Idyly kicking the sandspurs from his foot
Arms and legs covered with dust
Riinglets circled his neck.

Toenails embedded with a layer of dirt
Broken and cracked
Fingernails worn short
Outlined in black.

Yet it was his smile
That captured us
A gap where teeth once grew
And the crinkling of the eyes.

We knew this person
Who stood before us
As one of our own
One - trust, we must.

A man grow old in years
But a child at heart
One who had seen the world
Grow hostile and mean.

He ask not from us a single thing
But offered instead
Cold water from the spring
In his battered metal cup.

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