As the bus left the center

Of Peru’s great capital

The cathedrals and buildings

All drifted by as I stared

At the landscape all around.

 

Large mountains in the distance

Small boxes coloring them

Blue, red, green, white, and others

Like pixels of a T.V.

From the middle to the top

This was a wonder to see.

The mountains adorned like this.

 

As we drew near to them all

It was made so plain to me

That these were not works of art

Rather, homes for Lima’s poor 

The paved road we travelled on

Which covered the route we took

Ended near the humble mound

In its place were dust and mud.

 

As the young missionaries

And I stepped out of our bus

And wandered around the town

To gather people to watch

A play we were performing

The woes of this humble town

Would only seem to increase.

Stray dogs wandered all about

Many having furless spots.

Their dried up waste covering

The land of this shanty town.

Sadly it did not matter,

The roads were covered in dirt

Resembling a litter box.

 

After our skit was finished

I looked up and saw a cross

On a mountain peak above   

Soon I began to wonder

Of my modest surroundings

I wondered how men could live

In such meager poverty.

Then an odd thought came to me

That what keeps these souls alive

Is the hope that on one day

They will leave this all behind

And gaze at their maker’s eyes.