Posted 6/28/2020 6:31 PM (GMT -6)
It was Joyce (PA grandma) who started a column of jokes and words of wisdom on this Depression forum, and whose last column was on 5/1/2018, and who passed away not long after that.
I helped her with her column for about a week and got used to looking up sayings so that I could do that column. So, recently I'm looking around under authors and comments they’ve printed, and it reminds me of those sayings that I put in the column.
And it reminds me of Joyce.
This is actually the 3rd set of poems.
“Poetry is what happens when nothing else can.”
― Charles Bukowski
The Cold Within
by Zoe Rankin
Six humans trapped by happenstance in black 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 man held his back,
for on the faces around the fire he noticed one was black.
The next man, looking across the way, saw one not of his church,
and couldn’t bring himself to give the fire his stick of birch.
The third man sat in tattered clothes. He gave his coat a hitch.
Why should he put his log in to warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thought of the wealth he had in store,
and how to keep what he had earned from the lazy, shiftless poor.
The black man’s face bespoke revenge as the fire passed out of sight;
for all he saw in his stick of wood was a chance to spite the white.
The last man of this forlorn group did naught except for gain.
Giving only to those who gave to him was how he played the game.
Their logs held tight in death’s still hands was proof of human sin.
They didn’t die from the cold without.
They died from the cold within.