We sit
in comfort
and ponder
about almost anything.
Like we are right now.
In another place
a place that makes hell look appealing
they lie in abject anonymity,
barely existing.
There is no time for navel-gazing
when all there is to eat is rubble.
It seems the Almighty
doesn’t know they’re alive.
And if He does,
their suffering must be
part of His grand plan,
whatever that might be.
When God created man in His likeness,
maybe He overachieved.
Or maybe,
man created God in his likeness.
That would explain a lot.
So we sit,
stuffing chips into our gaping mouths,
moaning about our weight,
cholesterol,
blood pressure,
whatever.
Meanwhile,
they’re cradled in skinny arms like newborns,
except they’re not.
Bulging-eyed and bony,
silent through mouth
but not through eyes.
Don’t look away.
Look into those eyes.
See yourself.
If we can’t love,
then what the hell are we?
If God has a reason I would imagine it would be to teach us love and to help. It’s on us but we let them down. That’s one reason the thought of billionaires sicken me. They could help but most either don’t or just do enough for a tax write off.
Great ink