They’re days old
and hard and stale and
small
and there’s only five
and two of those I
brought along
and
five thousand of them
all
unknown faces
and
unknowing hands
and
mouths
until He asks,
seeing beyond the
mouths
through the chest
to the soul, starving
and my bread
in His hands
to
their mouths
feeds
them and
feeds
them again.
I have only two
my sacrifice of cents
makes little sense
in
a wider world
of
wilting wishes
and wasted wants
and
wasting away children
until He asks
knowing the nots
and the needs
and my mite
in His hands
to
their needs
gives
and
gives
again.
I’m one among a world
small, broken, flawed,
a dime among dollars
a peasant among kings
in
a sea of needs and abilities
all
mismatched and
clawing
at me and my conscience
until He asks
feeling the faults
and the faith
and I
in His hands
to
their aid
save
them and
save
them them again.
- 9:22 PM
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