Logs Of Wood
Six human beings by happenstance
Were trapped in a bitter dark cold.
Each had in his hand a piece of wood
So the story goes.
The dying fire was in need of wood
But a woman held hers back
For as she gazed at the faces round the fire
She saw that one was black.
A second man searched the gathering
And saw none from his church
So he could not bring himself to give
The fire his piece of birch.
A Third man sat in ragged clothes
And he gave his coat a hitch.
"Why," he said, "should I
Give my log to the idle rich?"
The Black man's face was full of revenge
As the fire was fading from sight.
He kept his log to punish them all,
The rich, the poor, the white.
The last man of the forlorn group
Did nothing except for gain.
He only gave to those who gave to him
That's how he played the game.
So the logs were found in death stilled hands
As a testament to human sin.
They did not die form the cold without.
They died from the cold within.
Nathan Perry, a black inmate serving time
in an Arkansas state prison