Dear God, I can barely look at him through this window of my car.
So God, how can you stand to watch from this window in your heart?
The rain drops are trickling just as quick as my tears.
Sweet Lord, you seem to know that I am crying in here.
I prop my elbow on my steering wheel,
And if I had room on this floor board I'd kneel.
I see this man, all tattered and torn.
His feet are bare, his body is worn.
A homeless man walks on this side of the street.
Looking at my side from his, it's so discrete.
I'm stopped in traffic for a couple of hours,
And I'm praying for this man inbetween these showers.
So pitiful, so hungry is this man.
He walks around with a trash can.
You can see the shame on his face.
He does not belong in this place.
Does any kind of mercy exist?
Has his life ever known bliss?
Has he ever felt a kiss?
How did his life turn out like this?
He needs to eat. He nees to bathe.
He needs to sleep. He needs to shave.
He feels hurt he feels resented.
But I feel his sadness, yet I feel demented.
I look up to heaven and continuted to pray.
I had a question and couldn't go about my way.
God, why don't YOU do something about this view?
He said, I did something about it a long time ago, I made you!
Whitney Albright
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poor-man-2/
