The Little Blue Sleeping-bag

 In the third piece for the BHM blog takeover, Sasha Langeveldt shares poetry based on her experience of visiting homeless man on Christmas day.

The world would teach you things the class room never could

Throughout the seasons you remain, the little blue sleeping-bag. From dusk till dawn you’re still there.

My heart squeezes tight as I approach you, I start to sweat…

I ask myself why am I so scared?

I open my mouth and before I am able to think of something to say, my voice jumps out,  like a predator pouncing onto its prey.


The little blue sleeping-bags stagnate from joy or happiness, wakes up form his cycle of loneliness and invites us in closer.

The wind blows swiftly yet I am still sweating, drowning in my own anxious antisocial behaviour. 

I cannot pinpoint to where in my reasoning I have gone wrong, somewhere there lays a small crack that allows these thoughts to seep in. Maybe it’s the sheer fear of your act of kindness being rejected, the perfect insult nonetheless, or maybe none of these at all.

Could it be this thought alone of the little blue sleeping-bag asking “why?”

“Why are you helping me?”

This uncomfortable cluster of letters that fall briskly off the tip of their tongue leave me mindless, as if time itself had stopped yet I am the only one able to move. Any words I say will come out in a incoherent manner, so its best to stand there in silence hoping the smile on your face is enough explanation as to ‘why’.

The question should not be why are you helping me, but rather why are we not helping each other?

my answer to this simple yet complex question is as follows Mr blue sleeping-bag 

If people cared more about others, kindness would not be such a taboo and the world would be a welcoming place.

Sasha Langeveldt was the first black women to be Student's union president. She is an activist and humanitarian.

She tweets at @SashaLangeveldt.

Read more pieces from Sasha on her blog:


Do you like this post?

Showing 1 reaction