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When I think of little street-wise bodies roaming in endless hopelessness in search of survival; when I see grubby hands scratch at spent cans for morsels not fit to eat; when I think of tangled limbs among plastic and card and lost children dreaming of bedtime stories and a mother’s hand across the brow – when I think of these things, then I am sad.
When I think of shipwrecked lives incarcerated in penal institutions; when I think of their hopes unrealised and their shattered dreams; when I think of their loved ones’ traumas through the waiting years with desires dashed and many fears – when I think of these things, then I am sad.
When I think of a mother’s care being snatched away from her much loved kids; when I think of her thoughts for her children’s loneliness and her sorrow only matched by the heart of God; when I think of her last efforts to leave a family legacy of care and continuity that will see them all fine – when I think of these things, then I am sad.
When I think of those who in folly took their first fix, though maybe regretted soon fast in its grip; when I think about this evil poison surging through veins fighting good blood in the battle of life and death; when I think of defeat and lifeless bodies lying cold and dank in filthy basements - when I think of these things, then I am sad.
When I think of famine and skin and bone and bodies withering like sun scorched blooms; when I think of meagre donors and little help and porcine orgies and disgusting waste; when I think of tearless crying from dehydrated infants too weak to lift a head to a mother’s dry breast – when I think of these things, then I am sad.
When I think of Him who loves us and how He grieves the misspent stewardship of our lands much blessed; when I think one day He will change the scene, making the last be first and the first be last; when I think of that morning when the sun will shine and bring final hope of life from death – when I think of these things, then I am glad.
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