I was hungry
and you formed a humanities club
and you discussed my hunger.
I was imprisoned
and you crept off quietly
to your chapel in the cellar
to pray for my release.
I was naked
and in your mind
you debated the morality of my
I was sick
and you knelt and thanked God
for your health.
I was homeless
and you preached to me
of the spiritual shelter of the
love of God.
I was lonely
and you left me alone to pray for me.
You seem so holy;
so close to God.
But I’m still very hungry
So where have our prayers gone?
What have they done?
What does it profit a man to page through his
book of prayers when the rest of the world is
crying for help?
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