By Kezhakielie Whiso
Beggar woman by the iron church gate
She sits alone and simply waits
In her hands a begging bowl
In her clothes a rotting foul
In her hair those unkempt clumps
At her feet some unclaimed crumbs
The bells of eternity toll
Town folks and tourists simply stroll
A hungry street dog came by her and stood
To give her company and share her food
She is too tired to shoo her away
"Where will she go? I am also stray."
And as the churchman came and locked the gate
She picked herself up to come another date
Where she went that night, I do not know
For 'twas late and I too had to go
Long after the scene was passed, I lay
I lay wondering what made her stay
And if they’d called her in, would that be strange?
Would her invitation have brought some change?
To the church and the beggar by her gate
In my thoughts, she continues to wait
By Kezhakielie Whiso
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