Dear Editor and Citizen
Poem by Patrick James Kennedy; The Cold Within Purpose and Progress.
Six humans trapped by happenstanceIn dark and bitter cold Each one possessed a stick of wood,Or so the story's told.
Their dying fire in need of logs, The first woman held hers back.For on the faces around the fire, She noticed one was black.
The next man looking cross the way,Saw one not of his church, And couldn't bring himself to give The fire his stick of birch.
The third one sat in tattered clothes, He gave his coat a hitch. Why should his log be put to use, To warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thoughtOf the wealth he had in store.And how to keep what he had earnedFrom the lazy, shiftless poor.
The black man's face bespoke revengeAs the fire passed from sight,For all he saw in his stick of woodWas a chance to spite the white.
The last man of this forlorn group Did naught except for gainGiving only to those who gave Was how he played the game.
The logs held tight in death's still handsWas proof of human sin.They didn't die from the cold without,They died from ---THE COLD WITHIN.
This poem was written in the 60's about the things that separates us and how the coldness in men’s heart is a kind of death. This poem is relevant for today. Can we identify with this truth?
Onie Norman
Dumas
