Speechless

The wordsmith loses her words

What can I say?

Children packed in cribs

Their memories haunt me

I am powerless

The child behind the door

Another orphan checks her pulse

It’s faint

Who is there to care for them?

Leaders display power

Leaders?

There must be some other word

The people cry out in the streets

Gunfire

The smell of feces and urine overwhelm

In shacks and sheds

Starving

Men and women have no room

For more mouths

Governments fight

Still no policy prevents this

You, O Lord, are our only hope!

Have mercy, Father

Too Much

I sat there

My heart laid bare

My life story told

Not even in entirety

No one said a word

Out of the silence

I received no comfort

The only voice

Came from inside, saying,

“Your pain is too much for them”

I learned to take my grief

To the Man of Sorrows

Who bore my grief

Catches my tears in bottle

And wipes them away

My pain is not too much for Him

The New Birth

Why don’t they understand?
I remember Nicodemus

We must have eyes to see
We must have ears to hear

Hearts captivated by idols
Become stone

The heart of flesh hurts
But the pain is living

The perfect one wept blood
The God-man felt forsaken

Battling deception
Betrayed

Why would I expect following him
To lead anywhere else?

We are poor royalty
Comforted mourners
Humble inheritors

Our parched mouths always
Find deep wells and flowing streams
Our rumbling stomachs
Will be satiated

Mercy and peace are ours
In the midst of oppression

The road to Golgotha
Leads to a cross
But the cross leads
To an empty tomb