Bessa McKaye

(Riyadh, Saudi Arabia)

The Beggar - Poem by Bessa McKaye

Who was that poor old stranger
who rang my front door bell?
I stood inside, the latch in place
His face I could not tell.

He said to me, in voice so low,
"Please man, a piece of bread”;
He stepped back from my door as I
Vigorously shook my head.

And then, he turned to walk away
Each step he took with pride,
The “ill-fit” clothing did their best
To hide the man inside.

He had almost reached the gate when I
Said, “Sir, please wait a bit -
I’ll fix a plate of food for you,
There is a chair, please sit.”

You may think, what a foolish thing
In this cruel day and age
To feed a hungry stranger,
Who may be full of rage.

But in my heat, I felt that I
Had turned the Lord away;
Because He said the least of these
Would dwell with Him one day.

As I prepared a plate inside
I felt tears falling free
For somehow in my heart I knew
This beggar could have been me.

But for the grace of God go I.
My heart gave thanks that day.
For opening my eyes, so full of "self”
I almost turned Him away!

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Read poems about / on: thanks, food, pride, heart, god

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003

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