The car horns trumpet alms of hypocrites
as Sunday traffic seeks chief parking spots,
but other days, poor walk the church's lot
where widows, fatherless, and homeless sit
on steps of stone outside locked doors unlit
before returning to the slums, if not
the street's beds or the shelter's cots,
wherever law or lawlessness permits.
If Jesus walked among you, then would He
be preaching in your pulpit to your few,
or would the heartache of the humble see
Him in your Sunday service's back pew,
the hungry, naked, sickly stranger, me,
a wretched man that could be one of you?
~ by Michael Rew / Email: witness@psonnets.org
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As He Abides in You
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All the Ways You Care
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Homeless Poems
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Poverty and Poor Poems
Copyright 2008 by Michael Rew
All Rights Reserved to the Glory of God
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