Two days ago friends of mine were assaulted in their home. A township shack, their rent was paid.

Early the next morning they packed their belongings into a pram, took their doggy and hit the streets only to face abuse and the threat of police arrests. Compassion seems to have dried up in our town. No one seems to care anymore. I couldn't sleep and I wrote this poem to share my feelings.

 

 

Shame

 

The poor cast out, on the street

Rejected and ashamed.

Mammon has no tolerance

for those he does not own.

 

They’d paid the rent

They have their rights

But no one really cares

The vulnerable are easy prey

Can’t keep the wolves at bay.

 

The wolves of Mammon

go for the sheep

they lead whole flocks astray

with tales of wealth,

fine living too

it seems they have a way.

 

Our Shepherd is so good and strong

He will not loose a one

He’s called His Own

Their His sheep,

Their His to keep.

 

So we pray and huddle close

What else can we do?

But trust in His selfless love

That always carries through.

 

Destruction’s come to Mammon’s house,

To those who won’t repent

And we know that soon enough

Wolf’s cry will be spent.

 

The land cleansed

With blood of the slain,

The ruins restored

By those who remain.