Let me tell you a story,
About a man down our road,
I won’t use his real name,
We’ll just call him Joe.

He’s nothing to look at,
Just an ordinary guy,
And if you saw him out somewhere,
You’d probably walk by.

Because his hair hangs in dreadlocks,
And his face is tattooed,
He wears worn, tattered clothing,
And has holes in his shoes.

And he looks like the product
Of a much miss-spent youth,
But nothing could be further,
In fact, from the truth.

Ok, he mixed with the wrong crowd,
Way back in his teens,
And the tattoos and dreadlocks,
Were a part of that scene.

But he came to his senses,
Before he got in too deep,
Unlike so many others
You see on the street,

And unlike so many others,
Joe regrets his misdeeds,
So now he makes it his mission,
To help people in need.

Because his memory torments him,
Over the things that he did,
Though he never was evil,
Just an unruly kid.

Still he’s trapped like the lowliest prisoner,
In a dungeon that he himself built,
Whipped by a merciless conscience,
With a cat of nine tails, made of guilt.

Guilt born of past misdemeanours,
For which he’s trying his best to atone,
By helping the poor and downtrodden,
Those in need of a hot meal or home,

And though he works till his fingers are bleeding,
His bank account remains in the red,
For though he should pay his debts and his landlord,
He gives it to the less fortunate instead.

Because, though his appearance would never suggest it,
He’s selfless in all that he does,
A saint to so many around him,
The personification of love.

Yet nobody would ever believe it,
If they knew him in his younger days,
Proof if it’s ever been doubted,
That the Lord works in mysterious ways.

For to the casual observer, this fellow,
Looks like a man to be feared or despised,
Few would suspect he’s an Angel,
Sent down from God, in disguise.

By
S.E.Ralph.

10-4-2018