A Christmas Reality by Ron Atchison

Christmas Reality
By Ron Atchison

As I tossed the extra quarter
Into the kettle brightly painted
Snowflakes danced about my head
A good deed had been done.
"May He bless you," said the soldier
In between another shiver...
"May our Lord in Heaven bless you."
And I smiled, walking on.

"What on Earth possesses you!"
The scream came from behind me
"To be so mighty generous
With that quarter so darned thin?"
"You must be drunk!" I heard him shout,
Unsure of his location;
"You must be drunk with Christmas
I've seen it time and time again."

"Who speaks to me?" I hollered back
Searching for my heckler
"Of what concern am I to you
A stranger not once met?"
"Oh, but yes," the voice assured
"Excuse my loud intrusion;
We've met on several instances
You've chosen to forget."

"Pardon me, I don't remember
Ever making your acquaintance
Could it be the Holidays
Have made my memory shorter?
And what on earth has prompted you
To make such accusations,
Why the indignation
At my giving of a quarter?"
"The quarter is irrelevant,
"His haunting voice replied.

"My concern is for a world
That money cannot buy.
My concern is for the soul
Of children in the street,
Suffering from human need
A quarter cannot meet."
"My concern is for the man
Who lacks a friend to care,
Living in material want
Losing faith in prayer...

And when this so-called charity
Allows us to neglect
The soul of our society
Someone must object
I'd hope you would object.

"The stranger's voice then disappeared
Swallowed by the sky.
And we would never speak again
Reality and I
But since that conversation
On a sidewalk in the snow
I often hear his whispers
As the seasons come and go.