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Wasteland

Going through some old files, and thought I would share a poem that I wrote about twelve years ago.

Wasteland…

Torn bodies lay amidst
piles of rubble and debris
Sky painted shades of gray
colored with apathy

One enters
this junk yard of past
and without respect of person
creates he a path

On one broken person
he perchanced to see
a watch of golden color
and thinks, “This.  For me.”

Never does he look
at the one he defiles
never does he think
his actions to be vile.

From another torn one
he sweetens his quest
as he loots the wad of bills
from within her vest.

He gives no thought past
his personal gain
Nor does he ever peer into
the window eyes of pain.

His attitude, common.
This aloof un-care.
No one seems to notice
No one seems to care.

Each one mistakenly believes
he could never lie there
where people trample over
without thought or care…

Until one day
motionless, lying on his back
he stares up to see
another fill his sack gratuitously…

With objects looted
from the broken ones
never comprehending
the damage he’s done.

A world of fruitless tasks
met with senseless gain
so America becomes
a spiritual Wasteland.

Virginia Shimchick Higgins, circa 1999

Posts may contain affiliate links. See Disclosure. All Opinions are My Own
About Virginia

Hi there! My name is Virginia, and I am the author/owner of That Bald Chick. I am a Christian, wife, mother of three, full time homemaker, homeschooler, and ministry volunteer in addition to being a blogger. In my free time *cough* I enjoy reading, writing, taking walks with my family, and listening to music.