Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Poverty's One Root Cause

“My resting place was cardboard on concrete,” he blurted in a resolute steel confession. “I lived in a dismal remote place where people came and went, but I never got introduced. I slept in sunshine in order to get warm. I roamed around at night in case an opportunity would find me. I was hungry for long periods of time, separated by little feasts of other people's scraps. Some days, I was able to make it to the “Food Line”, where I could line up like a beggar (lining up with other beggars) for a meal made up of food other people didn't want. The story about my past is better left in some dusty history book, where characters stole like thieves and they fought like Coliseum slaves. There would be a chapter on child abuse, and one on starvation. One about hatred, and one about hopelessness. Humiliation. Surrender. Darkness. But, we're going to leave that book on the shelf. In a few minutes, I'll tell you about another book. It's not the Bible, but for me, it could be, because this book helped me decide to come here today.”
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