The Cold Within
Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me. Matthew 25:45
Six humans trapped by happenstance In black and bitter cold Each possessed a stick of wood, Or so the story's told.
![](http://heavenawaits.com/otherpoems/snowsmall1.jpg) Their dying fire in need of logs, The first woman held hers back For on the faces around the fire She noticed one was black.
![](http://heavenawaits.com/otherpoems/snowsmall1.jpg) The next man looking 'cross the way Saw one not of his church And couldn't bring himself to give The fire his stick of birch.
![](http://heavenawaits.com/otherpoems/snowsmall1.jpg) The third one sat in tattered clothes He gave his coat a hitch, Why should his log be put to use To warm the idle rich?
![](http://heavenawaits.com/otherpoems/snowsmall1.jpg) The rich man just sat back and thought Of the wealth he had in store, And how to keep what he had earned From the lazy, shiftless poor.
![](http://heavenawaits.com/otherpoems/snowsmall1.jpg) The black man's face bespoke revenge As the fire passed from his sight, For all he saw in his stick of wood Was a chance to spite the white.
![](http://heavenawaits.com/otherpoems/snowsmall1.jpg) And the last man of this forlorn group Did naught except for gain, Giving only to those who gave Was how he played the game.
![](http://heavenawaits.com/otherpoems/snowsmall1.jpg) The logs held tight in death's stilled hands Was proof of human sin, They didn't die from the cold without, They died from the cold within. © by James Patrick Kinney
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