By Jo Coombs The poem points out that we don't do enough for third world countries simply because we see it as their problem and don't care enough.
When the wind blows dust into their eyes, It’s not the only reason that their family cries. When the rain washes ashes from their skin, It’s not the only reason that they are thin. Do you wonder that the only reason that they’ll never know The soft icy caress of a flake of snow, Is that their land is one of needless death and pain; Which is tossed from the Upper’s hands again…. To fall to it’s knees and hide it’s face to weep As it’s children, in Death’s dark dream sleep. Because of our lives high above Are devoid of the will and freedom to love…. To care enough to give a small but living piece, And spread across the lands a peace. Some happiness and hope for a season, But the one and only reason, That we don’t is because we’re here And they’re there.
