Open Poetry #39 |
Prayer of the Innocent |
WindWalker Senior Member
since 2001-10-12
Posts 1218 |
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).] |
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© Copyright 2006 Sharran WindWalker - All Rights Reserved | |||
ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
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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