by Johnny Carlton
This poem was first published in the World Vision magazine under the Johnny Giesbrecht byline.
Copyright 2012 Johnny Giesbrecht
Johnny Carlton is a writer of suspense thrillers available as e-books at www.amazon.com
There are worlds of hollow pain,
Where stick-legged babies look like pregnant dwarfs.
There are worlds of violent noise,
Of rocket fire and blood,
Where angry men destroy each other’s dreams.
There are worlds of walking dead,
Whose present ant-minds, once by God for freedom made,
Now cower before the god called State.
There are worlds of sand and sea
And palm trees waving peacefully
Over voodoo drums and hearts that know no peace.
There are worlds of hollow needles
Puking poison into ruptured veins;
And souls, marked up with needle tracks,
Float in and out from shores of paradise to shores of hell,
And now and then cry out for help.
There are worlds of shoulder-padded suits,
And women’s hemlines changing every year,
Where credit cards are wielded
With an awesome power, like Merlin’s wand.
Does the hungry child believe
That somewhere out there gleams a world of food
And warmth and pretty neon lights?
Do people torn by war from birth to death
Believe there is, somewhere and far away,
Some Shangri-La of peace?
Do human puppets
Moved about by strings of steel
Believe there is a world where all are free?
Does the voodoo witch believe
A world exists where magic spells are scorned?
Does the creature with the needle scars
Look past the cockroach crawling through a plaster crack
And see, beyond, a world
Where men are masters of their minds?
And does that man in suit and vest,
Sixth pew from the front,
Whose bank account and will and lawn
Are all kept tidy as a robin’s nest–
Does he see, in the message with its mission theme,
Those worlds where hunger, pain, and fear run wild?
He looks, he reads, he hears,
Then speaks with sorrow in his voice of all those tears.
But does he, in his heart,
Believe those other worlds exist?
There are many worlds where Jesus is not known,
Nor is the peace he gives,
But only darkness waiting for the light.