Beijing poetry
Trip Start
Jul 20, 2004
1
105
156
Trip End
Jul 20, 2012
Every Wednesday, the Bookworm hosts a International Poetry night. Though I am more an infrequent than frequent guest, I enjoy listening to the stories and poems and chatting with fellow like-minded people. So, I sat down and wrote this little story (with the help of my wonderful friend Edwin).
The Cripple
Almost every day, I see this miserable figure.
No legs, in rags, no dignity. Or has he dignity?
He doesn't beg, doesn't seek mercy, and just watches all about him carefully.
Where does he sleep? And if he soils himself, what then?
I would like to know his history:
Where he's from.
Does he have a family?
Why did he lose his legs?
If he could walk again, what would he do? Does he care?
Why do I care?
He had a life before but now, as he awaits the Reaper, it's wasting away.
Why do I care? Why can't I help but care?
The Cripple
Almost every day, I see this miserable figure.
No legs, in rags, no dignity. Or has he dignity?
He doesn't beg, doesn't seek mercy, and just watches all about him carefully.
Where does he sleep? And if he soils himself, what then?
I would like to know his history:
Where he's from.
Does he have a family?
Why did he lose his legs?
If he could walk again, what would he do? Does he care?
Why do I care?
He had a life before but now, as he awaits the Reaper, it's wasting away.
Why do I care? Why can't I help but care?


