Blessed are they who bless
the
whores and the junkies
living
on hard pavement
next
to the empty warehouse
with
the spray-painted graffiti
on
the wrong side of town
as
they trade rubber tubing,
needles,
spoons and sex.
I
tell you truly,
they
have had their pint
of
punishment already,
have
tasted the bitter root
in
ice and heat and rain
under
the midnight moon
where
even shadows
have
the cloak of shadows.
They
are the little ones
who
will one day be planted
in
fertile soil and fed
and
clothed and kissed
upon
their cherub cheeks,
given
royal robes of blue,
rings
on their fingers,
sandals
on their feet,
for
they never intended,
these
wandering prodigals,
any
harm to their father’s farm.
~William Hammett
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