Poverty

Rose Van Der Schuur, Portland

We do not ask for it, yet we are born with this curse,

If only we got help, somehow, somewhere, then this terrible reality could be reversed.

We do not know who to blame anymore,

Thought the banish of Apartheid, our dignity would restore.

Where do we go from here, where do we start?

We do want to get rid of this curse, this is the plea from our heart.

The hunger pains are so much to bear.

Dear Lord! Our heart cries out, show us You care.

The funny looks from people that stare.

Make us feel inhumane, just by their glare.

But we know this cannot be how our lives on earth are meant to be.

Lord, you promised you will take care of me.

The nights are cold and the warmth of the day has escaped us.

Lord I know our help comes from you, in your promise we must trust.

Our reality we wish on no man.

Just wish our people, this curse, they would understand.

We do not always receive by people we ask,

Yet, this repetition is our daily task.

We wish our faces could wear many masks,

Then maybe their faces they would see in us, when we ask.