I wish I would have spoken to them.
Sitting on a bucket asking alms.
Arm outstretched, whom we oft condemn.
Eyes asking to tell me life once was a gem.
Now I am broken, once I sang joyous psalms.
I wish I would have spoken to them.
I once led men. I once had a dream.
I once went to work. I have daughters and sons.
Arms outstretched, whom we oft condemn.
My eyes turn away. I cough up my phlegm.
They are not my problem. Their mistakes, their goans.
I wish I would have spoken to them.
Mind disconnected. All lost in market mayhem.
Home taken back. Love called away, now higher to roam.
Arm outstretched, whom we oft condemn.
I will never know. My pride. My sin.
A lost chance to listen and suffering to stem.
I wish I would have spoken to them.
Sitting on a bucket asking alms.
About the Creator
Carl Hartman
I am married and have three sons and one granddaughter. We live in Ohio and other than Army time, I have lived in Ohio my entire life thus far. I enjoy writing and reading what others have wrote.
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