The Old Shack

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  They lived in an old shack
at the mountain’s base out back
for everything they did lack
brought their lunch in a paper sack

Were as poor as they could be
just as everyone could plainly see
pranks at their expense weren’t funny
to all of my brothers and me

The eldest of them a girl
and was precious as a pearl
whose golden hair she did twirl
around her finger in a banana curl

Then came a most brooding boy
whose concentration did best to employ
alone with his food to toy
seemed to be nothing he did enjoy

Their parents were some older folks
whom were also the butt of jokes
which then only the son’s ire stokes
’til he throws at them a few pokes

When you get to the nitty-gritty
coming down to school in the city
for neither of them was pretty
but especially not for Miss Kitty

After all their schooling was done
out of this town they did run
but the damage which had begun
then over the years eventually won

The son was the first to die
for no matter how hard he try
he couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie
and overdosed on a heroin high

And their daughter then was next
who felt her life had been hexed
being ever distraught and vexed
a suicide note to them did text

Leaving their elderly parents alone
who in their grief did moan
“Why was there no compassion shown
by anyone they had ever known?!”

Now with my story all done
can you think if there’s anyone
a much beloved daughter or son
 you’ve harassed or bullied for fun?

Teresa Brewer  12/6/11

 

 

Just How It’s Supposed To Be?

I stuck my tongue out to catch the falling snowflakes. They fell upon my shoulders like dandruff but none landed on my tongue. An incoherent babble grew louder to my left. My attention shifted. An old, scraggly man hidden beneath an overgrown beard was “singing” for money. Living in the city desensitized people from the sights of the homeless. I stopped in mid-stride. He looked so pitiful and guilt constricted my heart. I couldn’t walk away, not this time. I scouted my pockets for a couple of coins and found five dollars. I left it in his hat and he grinned revealing all four of his teeth. My fingers caressed my pregnant stomach as I walked away. Maybe I hadn’t saved the man but with each act of kindness I could strive for a better world for my unborn child.

– Ermisenda Alvarez

And isn’t that just
how it’s supposed to be?
But way too many
the homeless don’t see

As being one of
the downtrodden and poor
and rather as those
who don’t try anymore

For our society does
no longer even care
“it’s their own fault”
does the public declare

Where is the compassion
that God does command?
“Look out for yourself”
of them we demand

To all those with
no change to spare
all I can say
is you’d better beware

‘Cause in this world
we’re living in today
you may be the next
to have it all taken away!

Teresa Marie  11/26/11

__picture it & write by Ermilia

The Dangers Of Being Raised Catholic – Via Mom

 

 

Dangers of  a  Catholic   Upbringing 

 

 

As  I  walked  down a busy street, knowing I was  late for Mass, my  eye fell upon one  of those  unfortunate, homeless vagabonds (you  know, tattered  clothing, long hair etc)  that  are  found in every town these days.

Some   people  turned to stare. Others quickly looked  away as if the sight  would  somehow contaminate  them..

Recalling  my  old  parish priest, Father Mike, who always admonished  me  to  ‘care for the sick, feed the hungry and  clothe the naked,’ I  was moved  by some powerful  inner urge to reach out to this  unfortunate   person.

Wearing   what  can only be described as rags, carrying  every worldly  possession in  two plastic bags, my  heart was touched by this  person’s   condition.

Yes,   where  some people saw only rags, I saw a true, hidden    beauty.

A   small  voice inside my head called out, ‘Reach out,  reach out  and  touch this  person!’ 

 

  
 
 
  
 
 

 

So I    did……

 

I won’t be  at  Mass this  week…