And sometimes
We hear
A plea
And stop
What we’re
Doing and
Listen seek
Discover distress
We choose
Then whether
Or not
To provide
Comfort and
If so
We are
Indeed created
In His
Only image
And sometimes
We hear
A plea
And stop
What we’re
Doing and
Listen seek
Discover distress
We choose
Then whether
Or not
To provide
Comfort and
If so
We are
Indeed created
In His
Only image
Are we
All not
Just bruised
Fruits whose
Skin has
Wrinkled and
Pulp has
Bittered don’t
We all
Want to
Be fresh
And washed
And coddled
Perhaps we
Weren’t plucked
To be
Eaten but
Rather placed
In a
Pie or
Preserve and
Enjoyed always
By many
Once on
A journey
I ventured
Into Hell
A black
Place filled
With tormented
Souls writhing
In anguish
Screaming for
Salvation and
Not one
Single cry
Was heard
Be thankful
To hear
The voices
Of sorrow
For neither
You nor
They are
There