Humanity
Humanity
His balding head was bent as if in prayer
An empty pint of whiskey at his feet
The air around him reeked of his despair
A spirit shattered by years on the street
What could I offer to this broken man?
My ordered life so foreign to his grief
Perhaps compassion this abyss could span
Our shared humanity bring some relief
His callous fingers opened to receive
Three cookies, a communion to be shared
A sacramental blanket we might weave
To give a shred of hope that someone cared
The prism of our hearts will let us see
The sacred source of our humanity
Tina Busch-Nema
March 11, 2009
His balding head was bent as if in prayer
An empty pint of whiskey at his feet
The air around him reeked of his despair
A spirit shattered by years on the street
What could I offer to this broken man?
My ordered life so foreign to his grief
Perhaps compassion this abyss could span
Our shared humanity bring some relief
His callous fingers opened to receive
Three cookies, a communion to be shared
A sacramental blanket we might weave
To give a shred of hope that someone cared
The prism of our hearts will let us see
The sacred source of our humanity
Tina Busch-Nema
March 11, 2009
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