This poem is written with the outcast in mind

The deaf, the broken and the blind
The one crucified alone and friendless
The weary, the home bound and the homeless
The dreamers and the sleepless
For the vagabond bag lady teeth ripped out of her mouth
in a silent winter’s night across from the chapel
as carolers sing gleefully abed a soft blanket of snow
The unborn torn assunder and cast away
Unnamed and unclaimed, never to see a single day
He whose scars and wounds are frozen in time
Unpredictably, yet inevitably like a pendulum swinging
To steal away each potential new beginning
The tree without trembling leaves in the mild autumn wind
The victim child whom no one believes
Heart filled with song but rhyme is all wrong
He whose dreams and visions are few and pale
The cancer patient whose therapy is to no avail
He whose prayers are few, unheard and unfinished
with truth so divided and diminished
and faith so completely finished
Whose optimism is scattered like ashes
at a mournful afternoon service
Whose minutes of purgatory become an eternity in Hell
whose hope has the future of a morning dew
waiting for the hot summer sun to arrive
For a single mother struggling to survive
The shopping mall panhandler getting leaner and leaner
For the poor family in the Lowlands awaiting Katrina
The gambler holding aces and eights
The middle child everyone hates
For the unknown saint who gave his life for humanity
For the Pope no one listens to for like of wealth and vanity
To these and many more – To thee I write of
whether it be politics, satire, religion or humanity
I write by the influence of true Christianity!

Written by: Gerard Ross
12/26/2025