Monday, June 15, 2015
To think there are people who
have never seen a squirrel,
Who spend their lives seeing only
tigers, or polar bears, or leopards,
Who have never laughed at those bushy tails,
Or watched them store up acorns,
Or disappear up a tree.
Perhaps it is a deprivation those
Who contemplate only ostriches
don't even know they suffer,
Just as most of us will never
know we're missing the
tangy taste of fried worms.
It is good to remember or privilege;
Not everyone sees a tiny
fellow scamper up an oak.
( Privilege is a poem by Carol Bialock, RSCJ)