THEY TRUSTED THE PAVEMENT INSTEAD
They slept soundly on the pavement
right next to a bakery. Or was it an act?
Two lads lying like leaves left where they fell.
Shuffling quickly away, even mothers ignored them.
Little boys. I would not even call them beggars.
Nobody will pick them off the cold bakery cobbles.
Have they run off from home to fend for themselves?
Did they ask to be born? What loins expelled them?
Whence they spring, was there not some beastly lust
akin to that of prowling dogs? They are just boys.
What bitch abandons her pups in this penury and pain?
Where was the hand that caught them from that hole?
How would these lads grow old enough to hear the priest
intone at the mass nearby: Trust in the Lord, He is Faithful.
If I felt bad enough, why did I not pick them up?
Why could I not have called the city hall? The Church?
Or wake them up and feed them bread, clothe them,
give them shelter. They are the least of our brethren.
We were rushing to church, we were a tad late; I took time
to finish my noodles and hot soup on a cold evening like this.
---ALBERT B, CASUGA