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Exposing a city of smouldering rubble
But not a soul is to be seen.
The mighty structures,
Made by man,
Have been destroyed by man.

Among the piles of broken stone,
Lies the body of a little girl,
Her limbs twisted,
Her innocent face bearing the agonies of death,
The birthmark on her cheek hidden by dirty smudges.

Stepping delicately amidst the smoking debris,
A little dog sniffs along.
He stops for a moment at the body of the little girl and sniffs,
Then turns and moves on,
Smelling here and there as he goes,
With an air of indifference.

i love people

by judith jones

I LOVE THE happy, for they give me hope. I love the faces, bright
with smiles, the eyes sparkling with contentment, the hearts il-
luminating the wild joy of living.

I love the sad, for their depression needs my concern. Their men-
tal anguish weighs heavily on me as do their tears, sorrows, anxieties,
and disappointments. Pain is an inevitable necessity in life, and by
accepting it, we dull its sharp point and acquire courage and hope in
the future.

I love the shy for their modesty, the loving words they never dare
to speak, the thoughts and emotions locked deeply within.

I love the individualist for his ability to stand alone, and the
principles he immorably defends, in spite of the laughter and scorn
of others.

I love the lonely, for they need my encouragement. Emptiness is
theirs, only to be filled with love and companionship.

I love the humble, the proud, the weak, the strong. I love them
all for being people.

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