Too Little, Too Late

A homeless mom - some food can't buy,
she looks for work - but I don't cry.
I've my career, white shirt and tie.
I have my job. I cannot cry.

A thirsty boy, with mouth so dry.
The streets are hot - but I don't cry.
Don't questions ask, and don't ask 'why'.
I have my bills. I cannot cry.

Handicapped girl, about to die,
she goes unseen - so I don't cry.
That I don't care - Please don't imply.
I'm much too rushed. I cannot cry.

The sermons heard week after week -
but still no tear runs down my cheek.
But I will try, as days go by -
some day I'll care and surely cry.

How many suffered is unclear.
Was selfish I, year after year?
One day [before my God] I'll stand -
when it's too late to understand.

For God shall hear another cry.
He'll see another infant die.
And then He'll hear and see me try -
to bring a tear to my dry eye...

This poem won second place for the November 2010 poetry contest