SANCTUARY

John's camera lens vividly, once again, shows to all
An old soldier sleeping near a locked church door hall
A young lady sitting on the cold, hard, damp cement
With her cup for her quarters, dimes, nickels and cents

Mentally challenged? On booze or on drugs?
Often robbed by the system and denizen thugs!
Homeless they roam the Vancouver Mean Street
as the O.D. grim reaper hold's his scythe at their feet

These poor folk are the dregs of Canadian free society!
And that bothers the thoughts of some old guys like me;
They clutter the gutters as outside they pee
And collect welfare cheques in our biggest city(s)

Will they find Sanctuary in heaven in death?
Going home to paradise with their last breath?
Tooth fairy myths and Easter Bunny Dreams
Disappear in reality before reaching their teens

The sharp edges of existence cause a real suffering hell.
This pain is erased by a church funeral bell
The lady with the cup, the soldier asleep on the street!
Going home! Going home! To their Saviour to meet!

©Copyright February 6, 2007 by William H.A. Willbond MSM, CD