Prayer Wheel
a poem about a man and his shopping cart
Prayer Wheel Stopped at the intersection, I see a homeless man push a shopping cart overloaded with the junk that he loves—that he needs for reasons that nobody else would understand. He struggles because one of the cart’s wheels is wonky. It seems that half of the world’s shopping carts are wonky. But there’s far more at stake for this homeless man. His cart contains more than just this week’s groceries. His cart is a Bag of Holding—an extradimensional space that holds a lifetime of sorrow. We all carry a Bag of Holding, of course, but each of us carries a different kind of weight. The homeless man pushes his cart over the sidewalk cracked by tree roots. It’s a difficult path. I worry about that wonky wheel and then, shit, it breaks completely off the cart. That man tries to keep everything upright but it’s all too heavy and he isn’t Atlas. None of us is Atlas. The cart tips over and hits the sidewalk. That man’s possessions spill everywhere. His clothes, cans, newspapers, cardboard boxes, bottles, and dozens of metaphors are let loose. The man curses and curses and curses then grabs the empty cart by the handle and swings it around. He spins in a fast circle—damn, he’s surprisingly strong— and then throws the cart farther down the sidewalk. It bounces once, twice, three times before it skids to a halt. The man screams. No curse words this time. No words at all. Just the sound of rage. I feel the urge to step out of my car and help him gather his belongings. But I’m afraid of his pain. I’m afraid of his anger. I’m afraid of what dangerous things that he might have collected. There might be used hypodermic needles or traces of opiates that could harm me. What can I do? What can I do? The man continues to scream. I silently apologize to him though I know that my apology is just broke—another broke—broken prayer wheel. Sometimes, our blessings and sins just spin and spin. Then the traffic light turns green so I sigh, step on the gas, and drive away.
The saddest poem I’ve ever read 😢
I love this sad, lovely poem. I will be thinking about it the next time I see an unhoused person with their bag of holding…