By Sophie Rouméas
Photography by Den Kuvalem
The chill rain of an autumn day
frames the splendor of the Tuileries;
the opulence of the Opera Garnier.
Among endless beguiling windows
of art, elegance, promise and grace,
infused with the faith of Notre-Dame
and the passion of a gospel concert
in the American Cathedral rue George V,
I am filled with Paris.
At the bend of Rivoli,
a man on his knees, shirtless.
Without even one arm.
I try to guess his age.
He looks too young to
have survived World War II.
I wonder if he was
from Eastern Europe.
Maybe he was part of a gang.
What could leave a human
without arms?
I cry from the inside.
I walk by him slowly.
There is a man
helping him drink
some water.
How can he drink
when there is no one
to assist him?
I do not close my eyes
I do not
close my eyes. I do
not close my eyes.
I am late for my train,
but I cannot walk away.
How many times in my life
have I not taken the time
to see the hard reality?
I breathe a gentle smile,
grab all the euros
I have on me—
maybe enough for a few meals?
I meet his eyes.
I feel his dignity.
Can I participate in your day?
I want to
connect with him at the right level,
not make him feel less-than,
honor him.
Two bright,
bottomless eyes say
yes.
He returns to his water.
The caregiver is too busy to
catch my gaze—
an angel consumed with his task.
This moment won't leave me
even on the train home,
even miles away.
I beg myself to stay
in the emotions of my heart,
to continue to walk the days
of this world of contrasts.
This morning,
I prayed the Providence.
May each moment
bring him closer
to a softer day,
to leave this October soil,
and to reprogram his trajectory
to the beauty of life.
Will you pray with me?