let me be poor until i die.
let me be rich in my poverty…
and feel every small wound,
share every small sorrow,
dance with every small joy…
let me struggle with my brothers
to find human simple dreams.
let me feel companionship,
both the good and the bad.
and let me sleep with caring….
let my hands get dirty,
let my bowl be shared!
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coming out of the store:‘do you know Jesus? ‘i thought for a moment,looking at her clothes,and her Bible….‘yea, i spent the night with Him,passing out coats and blanketsdown at the shelter….we were gonna do the soup kitchentoday… but they arrested Him thismorning for being an illegal alien….that just leaves me,unless you want to go with…
we, the working people
we demand equality, and fairness!we are all immigrants here!yet no human being is illegal.we demand the right to work,and to educate our children.we demand shelter, and healthcare!we are a hard working, hard fightingpeople… we demand ahard working, hard fighting President!we know that you are limitedby the hand of the controlling elite,at the mercy of the…
capitalism…
raised against the childrenleft without a country!the fire never quenched,that consumes the nameless,and scorches the feetof those of conscience.the empty house padlocked,the stove unlit…the vampire kneelingbefore the cross of the lie!
snow birds screeching in the trees,
desolate, hungry clouds from the south,and the quiet before the storm.and those i love are sleeping, or far away.there’s nothing that can be done just now.all the fires and smoke are as distantas hours and days will allow.stillness, and waiting… for somethingthat hasnt taken form or spirit yet.walking through the museum of my heart,searching for…
Sunday morning redemption…
the silence that only Sunday brings.the week behind, jumbled and lost.sifting through the news,what needs attention?what cant be helped?where do we turn the wheeland place the blade?whose faces, whose names?an invitation to think,and ghosts that walk beside.the righteous shave and shower,putting on their best.somewhere a street bum asksfor a coupla dollars,trying to panhandle breakfast.cleaning the…
the prison door clangs open,
with nothing leftbut the clothes on my back,and feet that knowthe way home…rain begins to fallwith the coming of night.i seek shelter beneath a bridge.staring into the blacknessi see, i think i see…one solitary star.a star that tastes like bread,and meat scorched by the flame.that feels like warm blankets,clean sheets, the bare skin of a…