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A poem by Ruth Walsh pierces my heart.

I was naked, and you questioned my lack

Of modesty in my appearance.

I was imprisoned, and you debated

The legal aspects of interference.

I was penniless, and you discussed

Tax-deductable donations from your wealth.

I was sick, and you thanked the Lord,

For the blessings of your health.

I was hungry, and you formed a club

To study malnutrition.

I was homeless, and you said God’s love

Was shelter under any condition.

I was lonely, and you left me by myself

While you and your friends prayed.

You seem so holy and close to God…

Yet I’m still sick and alone and afraid!

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