Ben Logan was born and raised in
Baltimore, Maryland. He attended local public schools and
college. A Navy veteran, he retired from the Social
Security Administration as a Computer Systems Analyst. A
widower, he is the father of two and the grandfather of four.
He is from a family of artists and writers.
Ben, who has been writing for a
number of years, published his first book, "Shades of Gray in
Black and White" two years ago and is currently working on it's
sequel "more...Shades of Gray in Black and White. Through
his writing Ben speaks to the reader as a friend sharing a
variety of emotions, some of which is very personal. He
has been a featured poet at venues throughout the Baltimore
A Little Girlís Eyes
I parked my 500si right in front. I did not intend to be that
long. I came back to my old church to pick up some
dinners. Itís not really my old church, itís the building we
used for years until we built the new one past the beltway.
We wanted to feel safe when we came to church. Some of
our members stayed and are trying to build things up again.
The little girl was standing by my car when I came out. Her
clothes were torn and it looked like she could use something
to eat. Somehow our eyes met. There was a look of
sadness in her eyes. A look that one so young should not
have. A look that was way older than her age. Eyes that
went with lips that didnít smile, ears that didnít hear how
special she was, and arms that didnít hug much. Her eyes
seemed to say to me, ďAre you part of the village that is
supposed to help raise me? Am I not worthy of your love?
Do you keep the blessings God gave you to yourself?Ē All
that in a split second.
How do I tell her about all the things I do to give back?
The volunteer work at church. The mentoring and other
things. But then I know none of them get to her. I wanted to
pick her up in my arms and tell her I will love and protect
her with my life. I wanted to take her home with me. I
wanted to see her smile and to hear her laugh. I wanted to
remove that look from her eyes. But I knew that...it was
not to be.
When I moved past the beltway, I told myself that I was
doing what was best for me and my family. When I helped
to raise the money for the new church, I told myself that it
was Godís will. Now I know that the only thing I did...
was to say ďNoĒ to...a little girlís eyes.