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Open Poetry #39

Prayer of the Innocent

WindWalker
Senior Member

since 2001-10-12

Posts 1218

0 posted 2006-10-06 09:37 PM

Old man in broken shoes, stinking rags;
back bent by harsh, cold years:
What are you telling me,
when you shiver on cold nights
barely kept at bay by dirty damp blankets;
your exposed skin stung by drifting pebbles
in drafty spaces under a railway bridge?

Old man, why do you pray? You say:
Please, all I need today is enough money
for a warm meal and a smoke.
Who do you talk to, Old man?
What sort of crazy are you?
Was it a mother who taught you such foolishness?

Like a hunchback of old, he walks away
and a gang of kids eye the raggedy shelter.
Their laughter is harsh: they speak of thrashing
the meagre belongings; burning the blankets,
destroying the collected treasures
carefully packed in Safeway shopping bags
when unexpectedly, one of authority says,
“Wait! Could be one of us some day, huh?
leave him some spare change
instead.”  And curious,
they hang around for the old man’s return
but what they hear and see
shocks even these wingless pavement angels
for the old man, childlike kneels down with tears,
and thanks his God so naturally.

And I wonder at this miracle, this foolishness
of a man and his God...
Who is this God?  Who answers such prayer?
Is each one of us “God”?
Each capable of stunningly amazing things
just not aware, too scared to dare?
To be that which we always were?
Ahh, soul!  I pray you be re-made
in the image of a real God of love:
dare I believe such a prayer? Can it be answered?

[This message has been edited by WindWalker (10-07-2006 02:07 PM).]

ThisDiamond
Member Rara Avis

since 2002-02-22

Posts 9353
Michigan, USA

1 posted 2006-10-06 10:00 PM

What an earthquake of powerful thoughts here.
Quite amazing indeed...humbly I think...in his image, we are capable of his work.

Wow!

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