Our Foundations back story.
We still have groups in our society, with little voice or power, the small businessman,the worker, the elderly, the disadvantaged and the homeless. they each have their story.
Even the street boy.
I was standing at a cafe, waiting for my fare
The smell of meat and veggies was wafting through the air
Waiting for my number, queues are not my favourite scene
Then number 37 came up flashing cross the screen
A young kid skittered forward I would say around 14
His hair was long and matted one could guess where he had been
His tattered shirt and scrappy jeans were longing for a scrub
His boots a size too small for him, the pain, -in every rub
Grabbing for his burger, he turned and stared at me
The eyes were of an older man not young and fancy-free
The lines upon his sunken face belied his youthful age
A deep frustration mixed with fear was stamped with quiet rage
The waitress urged 3.50, the kid ignored the girl
Then suddenly he turned away and bolted out the door
Two blokes clearing tables down decided to give chase
They disappeared along the street at quite a vengeful pace
But something got me about the boy’s predicament
Turning to the door i felt the cool hard grey cement
Watching them, they ran towards the railway station yard
I followed them though falling dusk meant vision here was hard
An urgency took hold of me , a need to see it through
The railway platform loomed ahead and then a whistle blew
I saw two on the platform yell, come back you mongrel dog
A good train thundered past me as a scream pierced through / fog
We jumped down on the track, my stomach tightened up in side
What horror lay in front of us, my legs felt really tired.
That boy was just a bloodied mess, life disappearing fast
I knelt down near his face,…… his breath t’was just a gasp
“I’m just a homeless street kid: they can’t take me this way
And now they won’t catch me alive”……. his life then slipped away
The words he cried reminded me of words spoke long ago
By an old bloke deep in trouble by a Queensland waterhole.
And maybe now that street kid is at peace up there above
With God or some such power that will give a taste of love
Yes street kids and the swaggies they will join in fine embrace
and welcome all those people there in that far better place.
They’ll waltz with their Matildas like the battling folk of old
And waltzing they will sing the fair go song and sing it bold
So while we’re here upon the earth, lets listen to that song
And sing of love and care fore those who feel they don’t belong.
Oct 200 Geoffrey W Graham