Last night I watch part of a TV programme , at first I was only half watching when suddenly it demanded my attention. It was about the underworld society that is growing in America. The were in Las Vagas and feet from where the rich and famous and wanna be’s were in the casinos and hotels living it up and throwing more money into gambling than these poor people living in drains have ever had! The were not just old vagrants there were men and women who just cannot afford to have a roof over their heads. Families, mothers with children. They are living in the storm drains, apparently there are hundred of miles of these drains, they have minutes warning if water rushes through the drains.
According to the reporter there are many many Americans one pay check away from homelessness. I know we have the same problems in this country but it was the stark division between the haves and have nots in Las Vagas. I was astounded here is a link to it. http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/8239319.stm I hope I am not offending anyone by publishing this but our world is spliting in to the rich and the poor. Remember I have already said that I know my country also is going in a similar direction!
I wrote a poem a couple of weeks ago which I could easily written for that programme so I am going to reprint it with this blog. I do not make a habit of making social comments but this struck me hard and has made me think , forgive me for saying we all need to look at our lives and our governments. So God Bless us all and help the poor, especially at the time of Thanks Giving and Christmas .
We live in shadows hiding in doorways shying away
from electric light’s glare unhappy in the daylight
longing for the night
writhing in pain if caught by the suns rays
struggling hard to keep out of it’s way
digging deep holes is how we spend the day
tunnelling this way and that deeper and deeper we go hardly
needing our eyes anymore that is why we now call this life
we lead half life you on my left and you on my right
we use drains now to move around
we need to be private afraid to be found
this half life to which we’re bound.
I DID NOT WRITE THIS POEM BECAUSE OF THE PROGRAMME BUT I AM REPRINTING IT BECAUSE OF THE PROGRAMME.