THE COLD WITHIN by James P. Kinney Six humans trapped by happenstance In bleak and bitter cold. Each one possessed a stick of wood Or so the story’s told. Their dying fire in need of logs The first man held his back For of the faces round the fire He noticed one was black. The next man looking ‘cross the way Saw one not of his church And couldn’t bring himself to give The fire his stick of birch. The third one sat in tattered clothes. He gave his coat a hitch. Why should his log be put to use To warm the idle rich? The rich man just sat back and thought Of the wealth he had in store And how to keep what he had earned From the lazy shiftless poor. The black man’s face bespoke revenge As the fire passed from his sight. For all he saw in his stick of wood Was a chance to spite the white. The last man of this forlorn group Did nought except for gain. Giving only to those who gave Was how he played the game. Their logs held tight in death’s still hands Was proof of human sin. They didn’t die from the cold without They died from the cold within. And you shall love the LORD your GOD with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ This is the first commandment. And the second, like it, is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” [Mark 12:30-31]
Posted on: Wed, 19 Nov 2014 02:56:37 +0000
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