Saturday, November 6, 2010
The following poem was the fruit of a night spent with the orphan’s. I cannot tell you the rare joy it was to have these bundles of brokenness crawl into our arms this morning. A surge of love so rare came crashing across the canvas of my life. I have thought long and hard today, and recalling the stories, watching Robinson, soaking in their pain, the words worked out something like this:
I am hungry, can’t you see,
I wonder who will care for me,
I stare and stare, it is my plight,
To lift my eyes reveals no light.
I can’t cry, and I can’t feel,
My sadness grows against my will.
Day and night, they are the same,
A never-ending circle of pain.
I dare not hope, for hope is dashed,
Every dream I have is always crashed.
Who can hear my wailing heart,
Who can mend the fracture parts?
To look at me is to see disdain,
To care for me, you can’t stop the rain.
Torrent’s come, I am drowning now,
I fight for breath, but fail somehow.
Yet I live on, it is my curse,
Depending on the Samaritan’s purse.
I beg and beg, my pride has fled,
It vanished with the arriving of my dread.
Pure fear, pure pain,
Pure sorrow, what is my name?
To who do I belong this day,
Where is my justice in life’s way?
It is my lot to carry this burden,
I am strong , though heavy laden.
Through my eyes, the world is different,
I see much deeper than the affluent.
I see past charades, I see past your pride,
I can see your heart through your eyes.
You may not like me, but it true,
If it were different, you would be me,
And I could be you.
Only through my orphan eyes,
Only through my silent cries.
Hold me if you dare to see,
The only difference is who we’re born to be.
Posted by Pastor at 12:32 PM