everyman

i
everyman my brother
—the puritan
the infidel—
even as a mother
does all she can
to save from hell

ii
all who from her bosom
—the marginal
the arrogant—
fail for want of wisdom
—the cardinal
the sacrosanct.

iii
every hue and colour
—negroid or blanc
yellow or red—
groomed or steeped in squalor
—rotund or lank
quick or half-dead—

iv
everyman my brother
—wealthy or poor
in earthly dross—
i must reconsider
even the more
to bear the cross

v
for my fallen neighbour,
to ease the pain
of them who grieve.
let me dare to labour
—to lose my gain
thus him relieve

vi
who has known no glory—
salt of the earth
that melts away;
may his fearsome story
find vital worth
in love's new sway.

© Copyright 2020 November 23
by Clyve A. Bowen♫