Death on Christmas Eve

I met Death
on Christmas Eve.
He sat with a man
homeless by choice.
Offered life
he chose death.
Offered freedom
in the rules of the shelter.
He chose bondage
in the freedom of the streets.
The joy of Christmas
is no longer simple.
The baby in coming
offers the chance
to reject life
and choose death.
The essence of tragedy
to see the horror of man
choosing death as a partner.
©Bob F. December 24, 1999

This poem was written Christmas Eve 1999.
I saw a homeless man I had helped get into a shelter
for Veterans sitting outside a Safeway. When I talked to him
he said there were too many rules, so he left.

As fall swiftly passes, and winter with its deadly chill
looms, those who live on the street face renewed peril.
Please. Pray for them.
Bob - October 9, 2004