A Sonnet for Rod

A formless shape, no friends, no kin - Now scarcely conscious where he lies Along the bench - his death defies Below the seat, a bottle of gin. No welfare, no hope, he begs to live, A victim he? or did he choose? Does Society so abuse? And those around, can he forgive? So shunned, ignored, a pariah he, Despised, unloved, condemned with scorn. His mind and body shredded and torn, He sighed and groaned “Oh God, why me?” “What have I done?” – I heard him say; He stirred and looked across the Square: “Now weep for me.” His simple prayer. He stretched and sighed, and there he lay……. Society failed, but now will God Raise him from the world –that He once trod? BPF 12 July 2015 Rod is a real person (not his real name) who is homeless and in very poor state of health. Little appears to have been done for him. He spends a lot of time lying or sitting on the bench outside the ‘Push’ Inn on Beverley Saturday Market. He is avoided and ignored by the majority of people who pass him by, intent only on their own private business.