The Night the Shanty Burned
A story from the South's tainted past.......
Somewhere between the earth and sky
hidden from sight to the casual passerby
stands the shanty she lived in.
No fancy courtyard surrounded the place.
The town folk would say it was a disgrace.
Poverty was her only sin.
Her clothes were ragged and often torn
for this she continually suffered their scorn.
Yet her heart was of pure gold.
One night I heard they burned her out
but there was no outcry, no not a shout
at least that's how the story was told.
No one seemed to remember her face.
She vanished that night without a trace.
The town appeared to breathe a sigh.
She was an unimportant, insignificant part
the poor woman with the golden heart
Yet her story still makes me cry.
When all we can see is the outside of folks
and we snicker and plot, make bad jokes
our humanity is ultimately lost.
So sad, so tragic, so harsh it becomes
when at the end we tally our sums
and realize cruelty's cost.
Vote for this poem
The Night the Shanty Burned
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