All you who
pass by,
don’t judge what you don’t understand.
don’t judge what you don’t understand.
Please, don’t walk away;
Any small amount
would help
a homeless,
a homeless,
hungry
and sick-to-my-very-bones me.
My soul suffers, and has for a long time;
how much longer can I hold on?
how much longer can I hold on?
You could stop,
you could help;
you could save me, for Humanity’s sake!
you could save me, for Humanity’s sake!
Instead, you just walk on by;
you show me your back.
you show me your back.
Words of gratitude are not spoken by the dead,
but I might sing your praises
but I might sing your praises
if you’d relieved my dread;
any small change could help.
any small change could help.
Riddled by
sleeplessness,
I drench my tattered coat in tears
that could flood the very streets
with a river of my shame.
I drench my tattered coat in tears
that could flood the very streets
with a river of my shame.
My eyes are weary,
because I fear for my safety.
You’ll
ignore me and move on,
but what goes around comes around;
your indifference will bring the shame on you.
but what goes around comes around;
your indifference will bring the shame on you.
©
2015 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen
This poem is part of a cycle based on the seven Penitential Psalms. The subtitle of the cycle is "Psalms from the Streets." This first entry is based on Psalm 6 and an all too familiar passage from Lamentations; it could be subtitled "The Homeless."
