Behold the Least of my Brethren

a poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen, Denmark

A candle stands lighted
on a bench of a rolling store
It stands for the life
of a sidewalk vendor
found bloody dead
at the break of day.

The light of the candle flickers
like a swaying plea of a soul
that the bereaved family
maybe led to know the offender.

A candle stands lighted each night
to remind the passersby
of the sidewalk vendor,
the owner of this empty rolling store
who spent the night bed on his chair
but who couldn`t see the dawn
for he was shot dead
for some vague motive.

The candle is now consumed
by its flickering light
and darkness now envelops
this rolling store.
And nobody answers
the plea why life
has to be extinguished
by some animosity.

And so darkness swallows again
the smallness of this sidewalk vendor
consumed by the rifle of the cruel hand.

And a new candle
has to be lighted again
on the bench of this rolling store,
a candle for the sidewalk vendor
that should flicker till the next dawn.

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