BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE
A THANKSGIVING POEM
On my holiday there’s too many great deceits,
“Leave it to beaver,” style songs that sing
With candle lights and songs of glory
Yet reality says it’s not the story
A working class man who struggles today
—written/Copyright ©2006 Hugh Kerry Lipsius
If I could cry, For whom would it be?
Perhaps the blind man,
Clutching in his fists a gleaming of more.
Perhaps the deaf man,
Sitting on his heap of crying souls in pain.
Perhaps the fat man,
Picking his teeth with the bones of quiet desperation.
Perhaps the rich man,
Tossing nickels down the well of soup kitchen hopes.
Or maybe the One who is crying for us all.
If I could cry anymore.