Once I walked along the shore,
Lonely, but happy, when I saw,
An old homeless man - torn and ragged were the clothes he wore.
He stood in the sunset; all was silent, except for a bird’s caw.
He raised his arms in prayer, and cried,
“Lord I want to ask You this,
Rain down Your blessings on those below,
Let them feel your healing kiss,
For sickness grips many like a foe.
Set them free!
“Send angels’ songs to bring them bliss,
To all: rich, poor, mute or poet…
Let their pain fade into the mist,
Let them feel your loving touch and know it.
I fall to my knees!
“You who guide the world to find a path,
Through awesome battles and evil’s blast,
Help them break free of sickness’ wrath,
Make their pain a dim memory of the past.
May it be! ”
Wearily, he walked and sat down in a park.
A policeman came and looked at him with a frown,
“Vagrants are not allowed here after dark.
You’ll need to move to another part of town! ”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your compassion becomes you. My old friend Menke Katz was fond of declaring that, 'The gold is in the sunset'. For such noble beggars, and I am sure there are many, it will get better farther on. Beautiful write, Mary. Love, Sandra