Ruth warren

Rookie (5/4/1973 / LONDON)

Old Tattered Angel - Poem by Ruth warren

Trodding slowly along these streets,
looking down at the lost souls below my feet.
Begging for food in a country so free,
homeless and hungry, so sad they look at me.

My heart breaking like glass with each cry heard,
shattering in silence with their every word.
Looking in their eyes, I can see the pain,
tears rolling down my face, like a slow falling rain.

I stoop down to talk in an old man's ear
told me on these streets he's been for 30 years.
Lost his wife and children too, gave up on life,
but God said 'with him he wasn't through.'

I took his hand and so rough it did feel,
I noticed humps on his back, so I guessed he was just ill.
He told me of stories that would break any man's heart,
how he use to give money to help others with a start.

We talked for hours and time so quickly passed,
the night come upon us, and I just had to ask,
Sir, what happened to your back, war or disease?
He stood before me and I fell to my knees.

He took off his torn shirt and I began to cry,
as his heavenly wings unfolded right before my eyes.
This angel of life, living on the streets,
sharing his stories with every one he meets.

Getting to know each and every heart,
on those violent dark streets, he's doing his part.
God sent him here 30 years ago,
to help the street people, lonely and cold.

His task has been a painful one, but many lessons learned,
changing lives of others as he had always yearned.
Telling of the love when that day comes, no more hunger,
violence, no more being bums.

Those streets there fit for a king,
more beauty than you or I have ever seen.
Food a'plenty, robes we will wear,
just follow this angel and he will lead you there.

Rising to my feet, I walked on down the street,
knowing those men would soon have food to eat.
For God sent an angel to teach them of his ways,
feeling better now, knowing they'll see brighter days.


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, May 14, 2006



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