Is it a sin?

An average day in Vietnam

Tiny little souls slowly wander on the streets

They are lottery sellers.

THey are beggars.

Some are young,

some are old,

some are blind,

some are handicapped.

The old ones carry the younger ones.

The young ones take care of the older ones.

Together, they lean on each other to make

a living.

Day and night,

Tiny little soulds slowly wander on the streets

Sadness on their eyes

Tiredness on their face

They accept to reach out their hands

to beg for money.

They accept to keep moving

and keep going.

No matter it will rain or shine.

Is it a sin to be a beggar?

Is it a sin to be a lottery seller?

No, it is NOT

It’s just because they dont’ have a choice.

We eat,

We learn,

We are better than other people.

Looking down, there are many people

who are more miserable than us.

However,

there are some idiots

don’t know that

don’t want to know that.

They look scornful with their filthy eyes

Upon those faces with the sad eyes

“Go away

go to hell

get away from me

SHOO”

All those harsh words with the hearless actions,

they push these unfortunate souls closer to hell.

They have eaten,

they have been raised,

they have gone to school,

they have been educated.

Where are all the morality?
I might be them

they might be me

It can be any of us.

everything is just hypocrisy.

Being hurt, angry, sorrowful and woulded,

somehow they ignore everything,

somehow they suffer patiently,

somehow they can stand on their own feet

and continue to make a living.

Day and night

These little poor things

Questioning about themselves:

Is it a sin to be a beggar?

Is it a sin to be a lottery seller?

Looking at the American homeless people and beggars

Even though they have miserable life,

they still can be given a shelter to stay.

I feel sorry for my own people.

They are…

sleeping on the streets,

eating leftover food secretly,

staying here and there,

carrying all the belongings with them,

and at the end…

Some of them get killed,

some of them get robbed.

All the money they have

from their hard working,

from their perservance,

from their endurance.

GONE!

Gone with the wind!

Their lives are like a paper boat

Floating on the river of life

Don’t know when their vulnerable lives

will sink deep into the ocean of the misfortune.

I cried after I read Catfish and Mandala.

I cried for my country.

When can the country be more progressive?
When can the country be more ameliorative?

Wait until that day

No more beggars have to sleep on the streets,