Madonna of the Streets
(As Met by an Atheist)

As I walk down a sordid street one night
Where only shines a nascent star for light

And where dirt clings to walls and walls to dirt,

All appears to me in the dark inert.

I grow anxious to hurry on my way

And leave the thieves that in the alley prey.

But before I march foot in front of foot,

A woman approaches me from the soot.

In tattered blue cloak, more a girl, it seems –

A vagabond waif of nobody's dreams.

Yet, once she must not have been so reviled

For here I saw a child expecting child!

Full in belly, and no doubt, diseases,

She lived down there where no gentle breeze is.

Her eyes clasp mine as she uplifts cupped palms

And meekly begs: "Sir, would you spare some alms?"

Now, all my life I have avoided creed,
Eschewing the urge to help those in need,
In fear or scorn, I quickly pass them by,
But that night I stopped – I'm not certain why.
Unable to forsake the forlorn face,
To be the tyrant of the human race,
I yielded.  Yet, a friend of any worth,
Would have given shelter until the birth,
But I am nothing more than just plain me:
A man, sometimes that's hard enough to be.
Late that night, as I laid me down to sleep,
I thought of the girl and began to weep:
A Virgin image so real I even
Prayed to a God I didn't believe in.