The lost boy


There was a boy on the street last night, a San Pedro Sula street kid. He was about Ciaran & Aodhan’s size, but maybe a year or two older. He followed us … scared … he looked at us … sad …. He touched my arm … softly … I felt his pain and it stabbed deep inside of me. I hear the screams inside his head. His emotions transferred over to me with that gentle longing touch. This boy has been hurt in so many ways that I can’t possibly imagine. I gave him a small bill (5L) and he took it, shaking, and backed away, still following in the shadows at a distance. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. This boys eyes were hollow. He seemed a living corpse, wandering with no hope, no future, no life. He looked at my boys like the little match girl watched the Christmas party. I realized that we were carrying the leftovers the kids had brought from the restaurant; chicken soup with half a chicken breast in it and a huge box of spaghetti with shrimp. They gave him the packages and he squatted on the street as soon as the boys turned away and dug in greedily. He was so hungry, and not just for food. This boy needs so much more than food. You could see as he looked at Ciaran and Aodhan – he saw that they had everything, and he had nothing. You could see the hollowness of his eyes grow like Little Orphan Annie’s. The boy had a gentleness about him, like a timid rabbit, or a nervous little mouse.