I know it, I’m broken.
Oh yes I give token.
Pretend to care
when a sweet-selling child meets my stare.
Or when someone unsheltered sleeps on a bench,
and my heart twists tight with a full throttle wrench.
But I still turn away,
decline to stay,
with a thought and a feeling
that leaves me reeling:
could it all be a ruse?
Bused in to confuse?
A systemized scam,
from a savvy flim-flam?
These thoughts make me sad
beyond angry, past mad.
Because I have a home,
the freedom to roam,
a lucky beginning,
with “I love you’s” still ringing.
Family and friends
to help, pray and mend.
Yes I’m broken — it’s true.
Maybe you are too.
But one thing we can do,
offer mercy and grace.
Smile into a face.
Maybe pull out a dollar,
send a letter, sing, or holler.
It might not seem much,
but if we all show a touch
of compassion and love,
good things will get done.
Val Gee
Raging Grannies, opraginggranniesfriends@gmail.com