Only God Hears Poem by Randy McClave

The color of their hair
I don't really care,
It's just a fur, so they don't go burr
Or maybe their head is bare.

The color of their skin
It is no sin,
It's a sheathing, to keep us breathing
They all are still men.

The number of their scars
It is their memoirs,
They are bruises, and no excuses
Just like ours.

The clothes on their back
A suit or dress or a sack,
Whether their new and worn, or tattered and torn
I will not mock or attack.

The number of their tears
Silent to many ears,
Each one though counted, until prayer is mounted
Only God hears.

Randy L. McClave