My Brothers Keeper

This morning

I found blood

Splattered on the railings, at the bus stop

I was jolted

“May this be not the blood of a man”

I hoped silently

“It is”

A voice tells me

“It is but the blood of kindred

A man fleshed as those who thronged

Through the haze and maze of getting by

Oblivious of little shades of splattered fluids on tar”



Thus entrapped

I followed the trail

And found it veered into a garden

That same moment

The voice of reason tells me

“Clock-in is but in five minutes”

I ruefully abandoned my quest



I stood decidedly

Then wished fervently-

May it be not

The blood of any of my acquaintance

And may it be not

The blood of any of my kinsman

Nor the blood of my brother

And if it is

May it not be my blood



I moved on

Then heard that same voice

Nudging. asking

“Am I my brothers’ keeper”

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