THE GOOD DIE YOUNG, THE YOUNG SUFFER ENOUGH.

CHARITY IS ATTACHED TO THE OXYGEN HOSE

If one rattles the pencils in his cup will you drop a penny or two

or will they remain in your pocket? Clearly because he doesn’t need

the stain of filthy copper cents, for all to see he’s dependent on your charity?

If  a child with a bloated belly is photographed in hunger and malnutrition

attached to a magazine add asking for few bucks for some kids salvation

will you turn the page without the least bit of contrition

for the kid’s soiled clothes and life’s mountain shack condition?

Would it be different if you knew him?

I know I should write more of small wet feet

happily running away from waves “attacking”

with their dying energy on the seashore,

of flowers lush and lovely gentle breezes warm

scenting the stink of the world away from the air 

the children are breathing, as they live without care.

I know I should and I certainly would if I could.

I swear to you I would write of lovely days

and joy filled nights where beauty, not beggary, reigns my sight

and happy little contented hands sumptuously filled with food for life.

But I don’t know how to describe such things that somewhere be,

It's me, they just do not appear, do not come to be before me.

We each have our own set of eyes,

except we lie to our own self for they cannot pretend

they see not what we want but only what is before them.

© M Durfee

9/30/13