by Dennis Williams

I’m left behind forever, counted among the sick, blind, and lame, 
no one hears my cry, no one sees my plight.
I’m left behind, left behind,
there is always someone already ahead, no matter how much I try.

I’m left behind, where is their heart, where is the compassion,
when the water comes to life, I’m tossed aside, 
I’m left behind, 
and no one ever cares.

I’m left behind just like before, 
no one to give a hand. 

I’m always left behind,
I need a brother’s hand 

Left behind, left behind,
that seems to be my cry. 
Left behind, left behind, 
they all came to see me die.

Then, one day, as if by design,
the Mighty Healer came my way.
He asked me if I wanted to be healed, 
and I told him of my experience. 
No longer was I crowded out,
I was the center of the stage, 
all the spotlight was now turned on me. 

“I see your plight, 
and I come to heal you,”
Jesus said,  
“Rise up, take up your bed, and walk,”
and I was healed. 

I obeyed his voice 
I had no other choice
I was no longer left behind. 

I left the pack
I got my energy back
I was no longer left behind.

Dennis Williams is an emerging poet-writer from Sandy Hill, St. Catherine, Jamaica. His writings have been published in Agape Review and the American Diversity Report.