Many wanderers use poetry as a survival tool—not just for money, but for sanity. Writing on the sidewalk with "brightly coloured chalks" transforms a public thoroughfare into a gallery of the soul. It’s a way to declare, "I am here," in a world that often treats the homeless as invisible.
"My object in living is to unite / My avocation and my vocation / As my two eyes make one in sight." — Robert Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time Why It Matters
We need this perspective because it reminds us of the "faith in humanity" that can be restored by a simple act, like a stranger providing waterproof boots or a slice of pizza. It forces us to ask: Who gives a voice to the voiceless? .
Next time you see someone sitting on a curb with a notebook, don’t just see a "tramp." See a witness. They are documenting the parts of our world that the rest of us are too busy to notice.