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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