Donation

Half the world is fat,
half the world is thin
and half the world is
still locked out, still
trying to get in.

And the flicker flame of conscience
is an all invasive scream,
those little arms as thin as sticks,
blank eyes that haunt your dreams;
and you would not harm so lightly
the kitten taken in,
or the chance on Sunday mornings
to absolve a little sin.

Yet that envelope discarded
like a coin dropped to the floor,
becomes no more than memory,
one more pebble on the shore;
yet still the world turns endless on,
the wheels of commerce spin,
whilst half the world is still locked
out, still trying to get in.

So sleep dear child, sleep all you can,
dream every wish come true;
for this world is thin,
as thin can be
but not so thin as you.

5 comments

  1. “you would not harm so lightly
    the kitten taken in”

    Douglas,

    How callous we have become, anesthetized to the suffering in this world,
    even when it’s a child who is suffering.

    “the flicker flame of conscience
    is an all invasive scream,”

    That will be in our new Bon Mots tomorrow…I’ve had a long day and can not
    keep my eyes open, but for sure, bright and early tomorrow I will add that
    memorable quote.

    sarah

    Like

  2. Douglas, this is like a punch in the gut. You are spot on. It is strange, sometimes those who have the most materially give the least, and are happy in their ‘what we have failed to do state.’ I watched a documentary the other day of a tourist haggling with tribespeople over what they asked as payment for her to take their photos… it amounted to a few cents.

    One to read again.

    Regards,

    Maryse

    Like

  3. HI Douglaus

    A timely and significant poem!! You capture the theme of need and that of avarice in this piece so deftly, with a voice of empathy and urgency. It is al to easy to forget that envelope or ignore that call from whatever agency seeks to help those suffering from economic or health issues!

    Yet that envelope discarded
    like a coin dropped to the floor,
    becomes no more than memory,
    one more pebble on the shore;
    yet still the world turns endless on,
    the wheels of commerce spin,

    And yes, “the wheels of commerce spin” and the bankers at Wall Street profit while the poor struggle to survive. What a tragic situation! Thank you for this, it haunts and it hurts as good poetry should!

    My Best
    Wendy

    Like

  4. Douglas, thank you for reminding us in a way we won’t soon forget. Your words reinforce my decisions to help along my way. Nothing I have done rewards my spirit more, and I will continue.
    ptc

    Like

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s