Poetry For Reflection

The Cold Within

Six humans trapped by happenstance
in black and bitter cold,
Each possessed a stick of wood
Or so the story's told.

Their dying fire in need of logs
the first woman held hers back,
For on the faces around the fire
She noticed one was black.

The next man looking 'cross the way
Saw one not of his church,
And couldn't bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.

The third one sat in tattered clothes
He gave his coat a hitch,
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought
Of the wealth he had in store,
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy, shiftless poor.

The black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight,
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white.

And the last man of this forlorn group
Did naught except for gain,
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game.

The logs held tight in death's stilled hands
Was proof of human sin,
They didn't die from the cold without,
They died from the cold within.

     ---Written and Copyrighted by
James Patrick Kinney

Regarding the identity/fate of the poet, the following letter appeared in a Dear Abby column on October 25, 1999, indicating that he was in his 40s when he wrote the poem.  The letter doesn't indicate if he wrote/published anything else of note. "DEAR ABBY: My husband, James Patrick Kinney, wrote the poem "The Cold Within" in the 1960s.   It is gratifying to know he left something behind that others appreciate.  He submitted it to the Saturday Evening Post; however, it was rejected as "too controversial for the times.  Jim was active in the ecumenical movement.  His poem was sent in to the Liguorian, a Catholic magazine.  That was its first official publication to my knowledge.  Since then, it has appeared in church bulletins, teaching seminars and on talk radio, listed as "Author Unknown".  If that was done for legal protection, I understand.  My family is always happy to see it appear, but we do think the true author should be given credit.  Jim died at 51 of a heart attack on May 23, 1973, after retiring to Sarasota, Fla.  My second marriage was to Homer Kenny, a Sarasota widower, so I became ... Mrs. James Kinney-Kenny."

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