Charcoal-Seller Poem by Mehrdad Dadkhah

A tale past by the wind was whispered to my ears
The Wind may have been harsh as they couldn't hear
It told me of hands covered in soot
of Pale of a face and of palms not smooth

Of a faith yet to be broken for his stomach would be unfilled
Of covered feet in snow for a cart to be brimmed

guess I was only one hearing as no one seemed to care
Someone took away the cart yet they all just stared

Couldn't tear my eyes off his ill fate
Seeing his thin robe and whisper-like pray

The charcoal seller implored all, only to be casted aside by the justice we all hold dear
His tale was left for the wind and some ears to be heard

A tale of bravery, resilience, and some fear
Of empathy, kindness, and concern. 
That despite our differences, we are all men 

I wished we had remembered his courage and strength 
And strived to help those in need, no matter what length

But alas! we turned a blind eye, lost in our own wealth
Forgetting the importance of compassion, for ourselves

The wind continued to whisper, sharing the charcoal seller's plight
But it fell on deaf ears, consumed by our own fight

Yet perhaps, in the silence, there's still hope to be found
That one day we'll remember, and turn our lives around

Lo! The wind knows the truth, it carries the stories forgotten by the mass
Lo! In the end, it's not wealth or power that's grand
But the love and care we extend, hand in hand.