And so it comes to this.
The measure of one’s dignity,
a cardboard box, two apples,
a potato and an exit sign
above the door?
Where is the mind that conceived
such indignity? Where the soul,
the heart that considers
humiliation a virtue,
indecency a benevolent gift?
And where do they fit in on humanity’s
scale of values, these Left-Overs who
hold the cardboard box, who wait
their turn to say “Please, sir, may
I have some more”? Oh, Oliver,
wake me from this black dream
of unspeakable insult.
Perhaps one day another
generation will wonder about
the monuments erected to the
Left-Overs, the platformed towers
that save us from “the tired,
the poor, the huddled masses
yearning to breathe free”.
The lamp flickers beside the
golden door.
Shining Spirit 
Extremely profound and powerful. Such an indictment on our so-called humanity and compassion.
Jim
Heart breaking. Thank you, my friend.
Thank you, Roger. My heart hurts from what is happening in our country. May God have mercy…
Amen
These poems are so meaningful to me, Roger. with heartfelt gratitude, Terry
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So happy that you find them meaningful. And so good to hear from you. Sue sends her love. R