It's A Box

Any city, in the nation
proudly shows the world it’s wealth,
but look beyond the lighted fountains
in the shadows by themselves,
You will see lopsided boxes
weakened by the falling rain
They are ugly and appalling
where in many nights have lain
Those whose lives have all been shattered
and whose world’s become askew
And we scowl with vain revulsion,
Shame on me, shame on you.
This is not a nice safe haven
protected, keeping one secure.
It’s a box. ..used for a shelter
but the figure lying there..
Feels the cold sharp pangs of hunger
along with failure and of shame
but he’s a man, his mother bore him
He’s a man .. He has a name.
Now the question is inside us
What to do? What to do?
You can turn, try not to see him,
but what if he, were me or you?

©Vrd.9/9/99


.
.
.