Logs Of Wood by Danny Hahlbohm
Six human beings by happenstance Were trapped in a bitter dark cold. Each had in his hand a piece of wood So the story goes.
The dying fire was in need of wood But a woman held hers back For as she gazed at the faces round the fire She saw that one was black.
A second man searched the gathering And saw none from his church So he could not bring himself to give The fire his piece of birch.
A third man sat in ragged clothes And he gave his coat a hitch. “Why,” he said, “should I Give my log to the idle rich?”
The Black man was full of revenge As the fire was fading from sight. He kept his log to punish them all, The rich, the poor, the white.
The last man of the forlorn group Did nothing except for gain. He only gave to those who gave to him That’s how he played the game.
So the logs were found in death stilled hands As a testament to their sin. They did not die from the cold without… They died from the cold within!
Nathan Perry, an inmate in Arkansas State Prison
