There's Nothing To Discuss (Poverty) Poem by A. P. Hancock

Dedicated to All the Poor Children of the World

I saw my old friend Cal today, just outside the Gates of Pearl.
She was waiting for the token ride, a beautiful precious girl.
Her T-shirt told me she was on her way, to the Free Church for some fun.
There she’d play with those like herself, and dream of what she’d become.

I went on through the Hallowed Gates, and got busy with my day.
I shuffled the papers and people some, and read about Piaget.
I went to lunch at Teddy’s Grill, for that Wednesday special stew.
I like old Vince’s recipe, with that spicy Cajun roux.

The afternoon was filled with folks, who complained of all the stuff.
They seemed to have some big-time cares, my solutions weren’t enough.
They just had not seen the little girl, her old clothes and tangled hair
If they had they would have understood, why all I gave them was stare.

I thought my day was over and done, as I pulled through those Glory Gates.
But then a surprise came by my way, it was one of those destiny dates.
For there at the stop was the very same mom, with her daughter by her side
Going wherever her people go, when the light and dark collide.

I wondered all the rainy night, just where the girl would stay.
I wondered what tomorrow would bring, if she made it to the day.
I wondered why life for her was bad, when mine was peaches and cream.
I wondered if she’d ever live, long enough to live the dream.

Some say they all should go to work, and join the daily crew.
But what about the little ones, there’s nothing they can do.
So the next time you’re driving your Ford or Benz, and see that girl on the bus.
Realize as I did on that fateful day, there’s nothing to discuss.