The Lost Soul

When I was a child

I earnestly promised

that had I the chance

to meet a beggar

upon the road

that I would treat

every beggar as Jesus Christ

It seemed so simple a promise

I smiled smugly

imagining pharisee's

clad in robes and sandals

and poor lepers

I would be a good samaritan

certainly, had I only the chance

promises are easy when you live in a small town

in the fifties....

Now it's the nineties

I live in the City

and walk through plague stricken beggars

every day

Outside my office

they yell like a broken record

spare change, spare change

so many times

they make me truly irritated

I wonder where they really live?

Why does that one wear different clothes everyday?

Why does that one have Anne Rice's new book in hardbound?

Did you see that special on Frontline?

What con artists!

Jesus, What suckers they must think we are.....

Then last night

as I was trudging home

tired from a stressful day

I noticed a man huddled on the churchsteps

He wasn't asking for money

But suddenly

I remembered

a smug child

and a broken promise.