The Distress of the Streets
by Ray Fowler, MD
Copyright Jan 1, 1986

(Time in Space Home)

darkness, and drizzle, and the chill of late fall
rigs sliding and stopping near the smell
burnt tires, blood and booze
baby in the bushes, wife in the windshield,
husband crushed to lifelessness

real worldís grimness brought critical grief
this sodden night
as drunken driving and sleepless times
put aimless figures behind the wheel
on the worst of times

carnage dripping foul humours
newly opened to airís review,
as medics reached to twisted metal,
pulling forth torn flesh and the spirits struggling within,
all crying for relief from misery

loudest screams from the anesthetized alcoholic,
confused, bleeding, stinking of runís curse,
unknowing of his sins, heedless of new-wrought death,
brought on by the senselessness
of his carelessness

more shrill the slurred calls,
the drunken raving,
as the infant chokes its own blood, and
the mother hangs lifeless in exploded glass,
and fatherís stillness hangs in the midnight hour.

may merciful Providence guide our hands
and lead our own hearts to refrain from judgment,
but rather to strengthen our minds and firm our resolve
to help the needy in all of their manifestations.

for, it is in giving that we receive,
and oft the prize delays its waking touch,
as our own struggling with divine willís message
and mankindís many wicked choices
makes philosophers of us all.