I saw his legs that cold night
Attached to a body in dim light
And I pretended not to see
That he was a man
Naked and deformed
That he lay as a child, newly born
But the questions came...
What did he see and feel?
Did he despair, did he reason?
What was it he craved for most?
A caring touch, loving kindness?
Did he care....to be put on show?
There were we, going our way
That cold December night
Avoiding the puddle that he had made
Avoiding his pain, our shame
Trying desperately not to see
Our own inhumanity
