Dreams of America: Jesus's Dispair

Jesus lives simply, a soul of the streets,
Staying in shadows and looking to eat;
Life is not easy, in fact it is hard,
From countless places, often he’s barred.
Never he knows who next he might meet.

Scavenging trash bins just to survive,
Somedays he feels just barely alive;
Scars cross his cheek, slightly they mar,
The child who once played out in the yard.
He longs for his family from which he was rived.

Sleeping by parapets, a bridge or a door,
Sometimes good fortune allows him a floor;
By officers stick, often he’s jarred,
“Come back whenever you get a green card.”
From abuse that he’s suffered he often wakes sore.

Jobs come quite paltry, often for naught,
Afraid to steal something in case he gets caught;
He’s never had the chance to get fired,
No one will take him, he never gets hired.
“This land is not the life that I sought”.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater