Too many of us judge books by their covers, And apply that same theory to people. We assume that what we allow ourselves to see; Is all we will ever get. That man standing at corner; Holding up a sign, begging for food, Isn’t an uneducated, illiterate bastard. He’s just a man who suffered Hardships we know nothing about. How dare we decide who or what he is, Without giving him a chance to tell us, Where his heart has been, What his eyes have seen. Who are we to judge what is in his heart? Because he holds a sign, begging for a friend. Yet we simply drive by, shaking our heads in shame. How could this man be allowed To exist in our world? As we drive to our families and homes, A glance in the rearview mirror reveals; A small figure standing behind the man. Only then do we feel moved, Because now there is a child; Wearing dirty old torn clothes, A hungry look upon his face; he too holds a sign. Yet we continue on our way, taking one more look At this child standing on the corner. And as the letters unscramble in the distance we read Will work for life, God Bless.
Reason for writing:
Driving in downtown New Orleans, I noticed this man and this child... Then I looked at how I reacted and decided to put it into words.
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Julie R. Chatman.