Walk a Mile in Their Shoes

Without remorse, he told the tale
Of willful acts of poaching.
And I, his friend, had balled my fist,
Preparing to reproach him.
But he went on to describe the time;
Nine siblings of meager means,
With no father to supply them bread;
The meat had stretched the beans.

A blue-haired girl in studded jeans,
Piercings adorned her face.
I scoffed inside at this punked out girl
Who had set herself so out of place.
And yet her clothes were modest and clean,
And she carried her head aloft.
Her apparel screamed, “PLEASE, NOTICE ME!”.
But her spirit was mild and soft.

We live in a world with billions of souls;
Diverse and dynamic and vast.
We must yet find a way to get along
If a peaceable world is to last.
Yes, in judging the acts of our brothers,
I profess we react too fast.
For each sinner yet has a future . . .
And every saint has a past! *

* Oscar Wilde . . .    "Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future."