Mocassins Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Don't ever judge a man until you've walked a hundred moons
in moccasins he made and wore with pride,
you've eaten porridge from his simple wooden spoons
and stood beside him while you listen to the tide.
You cannot hope to be the bearer of great hope
you cannot know if he regards you as a fool,
and should you judge a saddened soul hung from a rope
you were not standing there, his help came from a stool.
So will you look inside your soul before you speak,
and take his hands as if to say, good day my friend,
if it is wisdom and enlightenment you seek
you'll wear his mocassins to find it in the end.