A poem inspired by the coldness of winter. Click here and follow the link to donate to Shelter and help homeless people.
Happy eyes see not the pain that others bear,
Bustling by, ignorant of neighbours’ sorrow.
Little hopes: for joy and company to share,
Someone today who cares for their tomorrow.
At Christmas, so many wishes are made real:
Children receive the gifts they wanted all year;
Work is over and adults are again free.
But the coldness outside is all many feel,
Besides hunger, and loss, loneliness and fear.
The presents they need can’t fit under a tree.
The presents they need can be given by all:
Some compassion, some conversation, some cheer.
As ice is not the only reason people might fall:
A bad choice, unlucky place, those we hold dear.
Situation belied by explanation.
Cold streets, home to angels with dirty faces,
Brought low but deserving of Christmas love,
Their joy requires little dedication,
What you can spare, some time, such little graces.
Enveloping love, like a hand in a glove.
James Murphy is a postgraduate Masters student in International Relations and one of the Creative editors and photographers at The Bubble. Writing and reading have always been a major and loved part of his life, whether it’s poetry or analyses of Asian economic markets.