Local news, printed and gossiped, surrounds the lost ones. Souls lost to drugs, alcohol, forgotten love. Kids, adults looking to soothe the aches and hurt with substances.
Where were you? Where was I? What went wrong? Who is responsible?
Whether deceased, incarcerated, or trashed, these souls need us to not turn away, pretend not to notice, or leave them alone.
Do you know that your teenager is doing drugs? Harmless you may say, but what’s next? Do you know who she is with? Read the headlines, listen to the chatter. Is she next?
What will you do? Can we save the lost ones? Walking the hallways are souls wedged in the crack, soon to fall through. Can we close the gap before they stumble? That boy, in the headlines, reached the crack, looked around, and fell. No one, no net, no agency caught his stumbling ways. Now it’s too late.
The next lost soul, who will it be? What will you do? Can we reach the lost ones, extending a hand, offering an ear? Is innocence an excuse? Do you know?
Questions; my head is swimming, my heart aching.