Photo’s of a small boy who sat
Crouched, left without a sturdy stool.
He’s rain-soaked and sick and food starved,
His body’s wasted, flesh-clung bones;
Soon thereafter dies, I believe,
Prays now for me, a man, mood drooped
Low, having dropped the Sturdy Stool.
Once full of pleasures, now pressures
Deprive life: food full but soul starved,
Left alone and wasting away.
Gary Edward Geraci
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Author:
Gary Edward Geraci (
Offline) - Published: October 6th, 2023 07:09
- Comment from author about the poem: Reality, for many, is not a continuous symphony of blooming scented flower pedals and flapping feathered dove flight. Are we not called into the peripheries, no the bowels of suffering and unbelief? What does it look like, how does it feel to be starved for God?
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 0
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments3
This really makes one feel or rather see the subject matter, the reality for many, that we so often turn a blind eye to. Writing like this that makes one feel is effective writing.
Thank you for this affirmation, Pop64!
Brilliant!
Thank you, LBM!
A fine write Gary.
Thank you, O!
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