The Truth and Hope Poverty Tour is supposed to be about raising awareness, about putting a face on poverty statistics; about challenging people to think about poverty and talk about it.

It certainly has gotten me thinking.

In fact, it seems like ever since the tour was in Elizabeth City Jan. 19, I’m thinking more than ever about people living in poverty and what needs to happen to make their lives better.

A frequent theme of the tour, both here and at other locations, is that poverty often is hidden.

Sometimes it’s hidden, to be sure, and other times it’s hiding in plain sight. Surely we sometimes simply ignore the struggling and marginalized people around us and in our midst. In a sense, poverty seems to be almost everywhere we look.

Another perennial theme of the current discussion — kind of a stubborn subtext — is the contrast between the community as it presents itself to the world and the community as it is in real life, on the ground, in the trenches.

So which is the real Elizabeth City? Is it the Harbor of Hospitality, the postcard waterfront, the place of sailboats and river breezes and a growing arts community?

Or is it the place where people are choosing between paying their electric bills and putting food on the table?

The real Elizabeth City is both. This is the land of the Carolina moon and of boarded-up houses, of marvelous meals and people who wonder where their next meal is coming from.

One of the challenges — and perhaps the most difficult — is for these two Elizabeth Cities to see themselves as one Elizabeth City. Businesses ultimately won’t thrive without people who are able to afford their wares. People won’t be able to afford anything without jobs, and those jobs are going to come from the previously mentioned businesses.

Paradoxically, we become unable to confront the stark realities of poverty and the economic downturn partly because of a failure of imagination. We’re used to contrasting imagination with reality, so we forget that reality rarely changes unless we first imagine it changing. One city, one community, one state, one nation — this is an image for all of us to get our heads and hearts around.

It’s not that I fail to understand the anger of those who are struggling. From their perspective, it makes sense.

That doesn’t mean it changes anything, though.

Anger isn’t a substitute for solution. And all around I see more anger than solutions. Many poor people are angry at the rich. Much of the middle class is angry at the poor.

Angry at the poor? It almost makes too little sense to even write. Does anybody really think poor people want to be poor? I still imagine a community where we see ourselves as fellow passengers, as being in the same boat. It’s not as much about the politics of left or right as it is about empathy, concern, accountability, and faith. Being a good neighbor is about all those characteristics.

Neighbors look out for each other and work for the good of the neighborhood.