Big Dusty Man
He was got off at the wrong stop
Asking for his brother in the sun.
stunned, and scared, by unknown streets
and asking, searching for someone
Looking, asking, looking, peering
Stumbling as if words were strange
And the neighbour brought him up to us
to ask what we might re-arrange -
- to a small courageous woman
holding his thinking in this place
holding this huge and clumsy giant
holding trust with a pleasant face
Hours it seemed she spoke there
While we pygmies stood at hand
Fearful of the blundering power
of a big grey dusty man.
At last they came, the men in blue
with badges, truncheons, even guns
and took him back to somewhere cold
he looked at her, into the sun
A shaggy St. Bernard in a kennel
confined, confused and almost blind
And she could do no more for him
Just ask the captors to be kind.
And someone said “He’s just a soul
- lost and poor and gone astray”
- off at the wrong stop all his life
WE just called the men that day.
We all have now one final hope
that when it seems we’re lost, undone,
we all will find a small brave woman
standing, caring, loving, in the sun.