Bodiless message
Reached me around sun-up:
No place, today,
To rest, to think.
Dragged my bones to
The Markets of Faith,
En route to the
Hall of Candles;
Met a man
Who offered
All that he could,
The sum-total, in fact,
Of all that he was –
He wanted my trust,
But needed my money.
“Why aren’t you working?”
I dared not ask,
Too
English-polite to offend.
I have been carrying a cross
For a life time now,
One that I should lay
Next to somebody’s name.
I should ask them
That very question:
Why isn’t this man working?
What will you do to help him?
What are you doing for this local,
Here-every day, everyman?
Why would you rather commit my money,
My future, that of my family,
To those we do not know.
