The Lonely Man by Jonathon Snyder

Ignore the alley behind the mart,

For in it lies a man to blame.

To see himself he cannot start,

His body broken, figure lame.

Old footprints dusted by the snow,

The man lies down beneath the tarp,

His home a refuge from the foe,

A winter’s bitter freeze so sharp.

His beard unkempt and shoes worn through,

With nothing but his faith to hold,

The lonely man forgets his name

As fractals fall from dreaded cold.

While white stars gather from afar,

The man has nothing left to give

But wait and watch the passing car

And hold his cross and hope to live.

His tattered form still longs for light

Amidst the friendless gloom so black.

The frigid snow puts up a fight.

His humble heart begins to crack.

Forget the alley behind the store

For in it lies a man to scorn.

His hands betwixt his groin and sore

To keep them safe from frost forlorn.

The man outlives his benefits

But still the cross he keeps it near.

The alleyway in which he sits

Looms still the same in fright and fear.

The cross upon the snow it falls

From whence it came to kiss the ice.

The man has not the strength and stalls

But angels summon him to rise.

The man, with sudden force bestowed

Defies his fame from hideous rest

And rises up to lift his load

That from within it did infest.

The lonely man now follows friend

And from the heart indeed he cries!

‘Tis morning after peaceful end

When spirits sing and sorrow dies.