Ark (Poetry)

Two by two, or singly found
each given sanctuary there —
a home — a peaceful patch of ground
that offered sympathy and care.

Dumb beasts in need of rescue came
and human kindness took them in —
the old, unwanted and the lame
found ease — relief from suffering.

But the God of Profit has no heart —
no mercy in the face of pain
his henchman tore their world apart
and made them homeless once again.

Now Charity cries out for aid
to all who know the desperate plight
of creatures helpless and afraid
who have no voice or means to fight.

The Ark’s few acres stolen — lost
to those with dark agendas planned
who, scruple-free, dismiss the cost
in terms of lives — their greed for land

a cancer that infects and kills —
swallows miles of restful green
distorts the homely curve of hills
and threatens all that lies between...

We’re all at risk — nowhere is safe
the Ark’s a symbol of our time
when pity funds the stricken waif
and governments ignore such crime.