On a day with no breeze
we found a shack in a forgotten field
littered with stones and husks of ancient corn.
We were afraid,
but we broke through the ragged bamboo fence
and went inside.
Even now I wish that I had shut my eyes,
not to look upon the poverty of that man’s house.
In the half darkness under the low tin roof
we saw his single cot, a dirty blanket folded,
a faded picture of a man in white,
and a glass of water, swimming with motes of dust,
which we shattered, and ran,
leaving the splintered bamboo to cast
long shadows like spears into the afternoon.
But had we sought the …
Something to Consider
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