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(This is Humphrey’s first poem, written in November 1957, when he was 17—and homeless—in Waterloo, Iowa.)
A FALLEN MAN SEARCHING
The wintry wind bit against my face,
my hands buried deep in my pockets,
my feet shuffling along the sidewalk.
Just one I was that day,
one of the many millions
who walk the roads of life
each with a story all his own.
Of all the people
I saw through watery eyes
one man stands out from all others.
Both of us passing the other
that day.
He smiled and I the same.
Our lives, though we had never met,
were shared.
His overcoat was pulled tight
around his neck.
His eyes, soft, shy and afraid,
were set deep in his dark skin.
His shoes, with a glossy shine,
reflected the pride and beauty
he had for life.
This tall, living man
looking into the day,
each passing heart,
searched for an answer.
I felt his presence
and knew of his triumph, his defeat.
Alone, such as I, he was that day.
As one we are today,
a fallen man searching.
For he stands at my side
though I know not where he is.
And together, as one,
we continue our road of life,
though he is Negro and I white.
James Humphrey, “A Fallen Man Searching” from In Tribute To Survivors. Copyright ©1983, 2006 by Poets Alive Press/James Humphrey.
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