I am going to share some of them and include the dates when possible.
I hope you enjoy.
A Crack In The Pavement
Yesterday I tripped on a crack in the pavement .
It was a small crack and I didn't think much of it.
Today I fell in a hole in the ground that sprang from that crack.
Why didn't someone fix the crack before it became a hole?
Now, from this deep hole, I look up at a spruce whose branches wave sporadically in the wind, with no direction, they're waving at me. In some vain attempt to help, the tree sends down a rain of dried out thistles and barren seeds. They only annoy me as they bounce off my forehead as I plead for help!
There is nothing with me in this hole except some decayed branches and some bills I got in the mail yesterday.
I suppose, if someone would have shown me how, I could build a ladder from these materials, but I've not the education.
There are people walking above, but they do not understand my cries for help.
They just take pictures, then leave.
The only thing I can do is kick the walls with all my might and scream in violent rage!
And I am forced to think if death would be kinder than life in this hole?
Will God welcome me, when my own people will not?
Why did no one fix that crack in the pavement?
Why did I not fix that crack in the pavement?
Before it was a hole.
America
goodbye!
It was a small crack and I didn't think much of it.
Today I fell in a hole in the ground that sprang from that crack.
Why didn't someone fix the crack before it became a hole?
Now, from this deep hole, I look up at a spruce whose branches wave sporadically in the wind, with no direction, they're waving at me. In some vain attempt to help, the tree sends down a rain of dried out thistles and barren seeds. They only annoy me as they bounce off my forehead as I plead for help!
There is nothing with me in this hole except some decayed branches and some bills I got in the mail yesterday.
I suppose, if someone would have shown me how, I could build a ladder from these materials, but I've not the education.
There are people walking above, but they do not understand my cries for help.
They just take pictures, then leave.
The only thing I can do is kick the walls with all my might and scream in violent rage!
And I am forced to think if death would be kinder than life in this hole?
Will God welcome me, when my own people will not?
Why did no one fix that crack in the pavement?
Why did I not fix that crack in the pavement?
Before it was a hole.
America
goodbye!
Written by Daniel Hoffman
6/02/92
(in 1992 I left for my 2nd trip to Taiwan)
Daniel Hoffman ©2007
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