THE WORST DISEASE

by

(For Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.)

The worst disease is like a common cold,

But more destructive! Once it's taken hold,

It takes the human heart as in a vice,

And squeezes it between two walls of ice

Till common love becomes a frozen sap,

Which cannot rise to flow out through the tap

Of humane actions. Such is its effect,

It damns the best souls with a foul defect,

Just like a blight, which, starting from the roots,

Makes only bitter or aborted fruits

Upon fine trees which otherwise would bear

The crispest apple and the sweetest pear.

The worst disease is only racial hate.

The vilest forms reduce men to a state

Of paranoidal fury -- no holds barred,

They rave left, right and centre, hitting hard

At anyone who flaunts a sepia skin!

No songs or freedom marches can begin

To diagnose the horrors it creates....

No cures can be concocted for these hates,

Warping some people's souls like dried up limes;

But laws should be enforced to fight the crimes

Resulting from the rash of this disease!

But would that really help? Whom would it please

To mould their morals to unwanted codes,

Even to stanch the venom that explodes

Within the narrow regions of their brains,

Like silent thunder over barren plains?

Hate's elixir will not be found in laws,

Or inconsistent protest that abhors

The worst disease and its grim aftermath.

Nor in pretentious attitudes of wrath.

The answer lies beyond all earthly ken,

Deep, deep within the sullen hearts of men.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at You are a good Christian
by: Francis Duggan
from: Wonthaggi, Victoria, Australia

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