Thomas Merton

It is easy enough to tell the poor to accept their poverty as God’s will when you yourself have warm clothes and plenty of food and medical care and a roof over your head and no worry about the rent. But if you want them to believe you try to share some of their poverty and see if you can accept it as God’s will yourself.

Poverty – Meera Meenakshi Sundharam

It’s the 21st century, 
The world has advanced in many ways, yet poverty still cries.
Looking at the little boy with tears in eyes, 
Desperately searching for love, companion, and good clothes
We all know what it clearly indicates and shows, 
Poverty.
It haunts me, and part of me wants to make a change and, 
the other me wants to forget
but I can surely bet
It’s something one with a good heart wouldn’t do! 
If it takes some sacrifice, I’m ready
But is the rest of the world? 
I see poverty in a rich man trying to find love, 
I see poverty in a well-educated man who lacks modesty.
I see poverty in a literate man who lacks respect for the poor.
I see poverty in a selfish man who wants more
The world is still imperfect despite all the advancements, 
Because there is, 
Poverty. 

Poverty – Konjit Berhane

The poor
The homeless
The mother
The father
The son
The daughter
One by one
Died of hunger

The aunt
The uncle
The niece
The cousin
Followed them later

Oh! Poverty
Killing all the makers of history
Will you and I live to see
Poverty being history?

Poverty – Thomas Traherne

As in the house I sate,
Alone and desolate,
No creature but the fire and I,
The chimney and the stool, I lift mine eye
Up to the wall,
And in the silent hall,
Saw nothing mine
But some few cups and dishes shine,
The table and the wooden stools
Where people used to dine;
A painted cloth there was,
Wherein some ancient story wrought
A little entertained my thought,
Which light discovered through the glass.

I wondered much to see
That all my wealth should be
Confined in such a little room,
Yet hope for more I scarcely durst presume.
It grieved me sore
That such a scanty store
Should be my all;
For I forgot my ease and health,
Nor did I think of hands or eyes,
Nor soul nor body prize;
I neither thought the sun,
Nor moon, nor stars, nor people mine,
Though they did round about me shine;
And therefore was I quite undone.

Some greater things, I thought,
Must needs for me be wrought,
Which till my craving mind could see
I ever should lament my poverty;
I fain would have
Whatever bounty gave,
Nor could there be
Without or love or deity;
For should not he be infinite
Whose hand created me?
Ten thousand absent things
Did vex my poor and wanting mind,
Which, till I be no longer blind,
Let me not see the King of kings.

His love must surely be
Rich, infinite, and free;
Nor can he be thought a God
Of grace and power, that fills not his abode,
His holy court,
In kind and liberal sort;
Joys and pleasures,
Plenty of jewels, goods, and treasures,
To enrich the poor, cheer the forlorn,
His palace must adorn,
And given all to me;
For till his works my wealth became,
No love or peace did me inflame:
But now I have a Deity.