The Blizzard

Six men were trapped in a blizzard

Gloomy and hostile weather it was

Each wore layers of clothing

Yet a fire was needed to hold life.

The dying fire needed fuel,

The first held back his coat,

From the faces around the fire,

He noticed one was black.

The next one a priest looked around

And recognize he did not a brother

He was not ready to yield his coat

Though daily he called them all brothers.

The third one looked deprived

He held his coat closer,

Why my coat should burn

To warm the rich who have it all.

The rich man looked in thought

Of the wealth he made,

And stowed all away

He worked not to burn it in vain.

The black man's face burnt with hate

He looked at the fire in disgust,

He held his coat and realized

A gamble to even with the white.

The last man in this sad coterie

Thought to himself, why me?

He inferred himself worthiest

I have a family & should live.

Each held their coats as death loomed

Each reasoned that he not lose his soul;

They did not die from cold weather

They died from their cold thoughts.