Beside the road on my morning walk,
Continuous litter polluted the view.
I felt dirty, though I touched it not,
Nor had I put it there myself.
I wondered why travelers in cars
Would think it permissible to throw their garbage
Out the window and on the ground,
Either to be collected by others,
Or more likely to remain there until it disintegrated
Years from now – or possibly never.
I later reflected on the litter in my life,
The things that leave me trashy, polluted, and unclean.
Some things I have left there on my own,
Discarded objects I hoped would dissolve,
But most likely merely to fester,
Their stench never quite going away.
Others have also littered my life,
Depositing their waste my way,
Things they had no desire to dispose of themselves,
Making me their polluted roadside.
Some people have difficulties dealing with litter.
They struggle to deal with what they have placed laid there themselves.
Dealing with what others have deposited can be a challenge as well,
Wrestling with memories, hurting words, feelings, and real pains.
Yet for our own peace, our own cleanness,
We must pick up the litter we can
And dispose of it in the right way.