the poor child

I strive to be quiet and still
in waiting
and I fail - new cabinets
and all is turned-up, I move
clean, place, replace, move
again, and items pile-up in
the kitchen, and again I did
not achieve my aim

the snow did not come, nor
the storm, but now we
have gales -
across the miles families
throughout the land, unique,
rich, poor, and all shades
in between, by and large

ignore his coming for in
our time there is no peace
no stillness, no release
from slavery and exile, no
heart enough to stop and
see one poor child

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