The alleyway

He sat in the alleyway

oblivious to the smell,

familiar, to the filth,

familiar, to the open sewer

flowing in the center

of the stones, familiar,

to the cries of children,

familiar, the dogs full

of sores and mange

chasing the rats

familiar, the cockroaches

crawling over whatever

was in their way, familiar,

his legs. He sensed

the presence kneeling

next to him, unfamiliar,

the hand offering a burrito,

unfamiliar, a bottle of water

fresh, unfamiliar, the light,

unfamiliar, the sun rising,

unfamiliar, the light softening

the lines and creases

of his ten-year-old face.

You will go to Babylon

there  you will be rescued.

Photograph: The Micah Project, Honduras.