Poor And Homeless Poem by Randy McClave

He begged me for a dollar
But, instead I gave him a dime,
I thought myself as a scholar
So, I asked him about his lifetime,
He told me about the death of his father
And how he was raised by his mother,
And for him no one would care or bother
When I looked at him, I saw my son and brother.
He said that he never slept in a real bed
Nor could he afford to go to school,
Sometimes all that he ate was bread
And people at him would laugh and call him a fool,
Sometimes he just thought of suicide
But, that he said is an unforgivable sin,
Many times alone he sat down and cried
As he didn't feel equal to other men,
Some people laughed at him and called him a bum
While others would say he wasn't people,
He hated to what and who he had become
Now he is ashamed to visit God under his steeple.

A homeless man is all that I saw
As I walked alone down the street,
At first I thought about calling the law
Him, I was frightened to meet.
He asked me if I had a dollar to spare
I did, but instead I gave him a dime in change,
For him I wouldn't even say a prayer
To me he was nothing more than lazy and strange;
Then I listened to his story
Then I thought about my own brother and my son,
I was ignoring God's own creation and his glory
Like the man who would kill a dog with a gun.
They say they are angles that walk amongst us
Who are wearing their own disguise,
He didn't deserve for me to belittle or cuss
Sympathy and not a sty should had been in my eyes,
I could never walk this man’s trail
These words to man and to God I will now confess,
Now I understand clearly by removing the veil
Not one person wants to be poor and homeless.

Randy L. McClave