by Omire-oluedo Tubor
That beggar on the street
That sick man outskirt of town
That motherless baby
That innocently aborted baby
That girl that was raped
All they ask is
Is there love?
That poor widow undergoing torture
That mentally deranged without care
That lonely patient with terminal illness
That less brilliant classmate that is mocked
That blind man
They still ask
Is there love?
That battered wife
That barren woman being mocked by the mother-in-law
That congenitally malformed baby
That innocent prisoner
The question always in their mind is
Is there love?
They are so minute, you say
They are not worth living, you think in your heart
Why were they born? You ask
They are abandoned by us
And the stigma deepens
Their souls very weak
Is there love??
Why don’t we see them as our brother
Why not see him as your child
Why not see them as God’s gifts
Put yourself in their position
Tell yourself “it could’ve been me asking”
Is there love?
Is there love?
The unchangeable love
The unconditional love
The passionate type
Deep down from the heart
Is there love?
Just a little compassion
Just a little care
Just a little smile
Just a little gift
Gladdens their heart and removes the pain and question,
Is there love?
