A POOR MAN’S LITTLE FINGER

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Copper Bowl)

If a wealthy man fails to extend

His full hand to the poor and outspread,

Let him keep in his mind till the end

The poor man's little finger instead.

It is always so humble and low.

The last finger that stands on the hand.

But by Words of the Lord made to grow,

It has strength for the Cross to withstand.

"How a pinky? What speak you, O man?" –

A rich master would ask with a sneer:

"I have followed the Christ and His plan,

And my faith is both burning and clear!"

Well, recall the full drama and dread,

How deep down in the hell's burning heat,

The rich man called to Abraham's bed

For some comfort and coolness so sweet…

To send Lazarus, saved by His Grace,

With a drop on his finger to go –

That same wretch who in life’s earthly space

Found no honor or holy trace below.

But beyond, their two destinies flipped.

Each inherited what God had blessed.

And the poor man, no longer ill-equipped,

Found his place on Abraham's breast.

While the rich man, in torment and flame,

With a burning thirst called to his mind,

That with hearts hard as stones without shame,

He had left his own Heaven behind…

Oh, if only once more he could live,

To return there before he would die,

All the joy that the Heaven can give

In that pinky he’d long for and cry.

But that finger in hell can’t be found,

And a chasm divides it from grace.

His whole life was a lie, fully bound,

And forever it hurts in that place…

So I tell you right now, master dear,

To be rich in good deeds for the Lord.

For your life will soon fade and appear

Like a dream and a swift arrow poured.

Now’s the day to open your hand.

By tomorrow your pathway may stop.

And the Covenant aim in the land

Is this finger with one single drop…