On the lost in foreign lands
On the hopeless needing helping hands
On the broken- desolation’s child
On the unwed mother’s lonely mile
On the blind who stumble in the dark
On the ones who miss the mark
On the hungry, void of bread
mourners ’round their loved one’s bed
On secret shame, remaining still
On those embattled for Your will.
On an outcast soul’s despair
When broken hallelujahs fill the air
Amidst the wreckage, You are there
May we be angels unaware.
It’s hard to know where the seed of bitterness began
Perhaps before the dawn of man
When an angel of light,
Wasn’t satisfied with reflecting someone else’s might. Continue reading “Bitterness”
In a culture of stark cynicsim and impossible statues, He pulled the rug out from under of the palaces of religion. His hands were busy in the workhouse of mercy. His eyes turned toward the desperate. His feet stepped toward the outcast. His voice uttered grace and truth. Every step was questioned by those in power.