Always with a feeling
of trepidation,
excitement,
fear,
the day comes
when we go out
to God's lost souls,
forgotten, cold,
broken, filthy,
and occasionally
though rarely clean,
brand new on the streets,
with still clean hair,
french braided,
or faces cleanly shaven,
when only a month later,
we see the ravages of days,
the same faces no longer
quite the same,
the clothes
beyond repair,the souls beginning
to tatter
like their shirts
and shoes
and eyes …
i go to mass
and pray for them
before we leave,
like matadors
entering the ring,
never sure what the night
will bring,
whether warmth
or despair,
danger or death to them
or us,
my prayers silent
and heartfelt,then at last
we take off,
laughter ringing
around us,
as we watch for the faces,
the bodies,the eyes looking for us,
they know us now,
they come running,
as we jump out
time and time
and time again,
hauling heavy bags
behind us,
to buy them one more
day,
one more night in the rain,their pain and their joy
mingling with ours,
we are the wagons
filled with hope
in a scope we cannot
measure their hands touch ours,
their eyes digging deep
into ours,
god bless you,
the voices sing softly
as they walk away,
one leg, one arm,
one eye,
one time,
one life they share
with us for a moment
on the streets,
as we move on
and they remain
etched in our memories
forever,
the girl with the scabs
all over her face,
the boy with one leg
in the pouring rain,
whose mother would have
cried to see,the man who put down
his head and sobbed,too frail to take the bag
from our hands,
and then the others
who frighten us,
who come prowling,
watching,
trying to decide whether
to pounce or participate,
not sure whether
to attack or thank,
their eyes meet ours,
their hands touch mine,
their lives intertwined,with ours,
like the others,
irrevocably,
immeasurably,
and in the end, finally,
trust is our only bond,
their only hope,
our only shield
as we face them
again and again,
the night wears on,the faces endless,
the seeming hopelessness of it
interrupted by the briefest
of moments
when hope is born,
and a bag full of warm clothes
and groceries,
a flashlight, a sleeping bag
a deck of cards,
and some band-aids,
a sign of dignity returned,
their humanity
no different than ours,
and then finally
a face with eyes
so devastated and devastating
it stops your heart,
it breaks time
into tiny fragments
until we are either,as broken as they
or as whole,
no difference between us
anymore,we are one
as the eyes search mine,
will he let me claim him
as one of ours,
or will he step forward
and kill me
because hope is too far gone
for him to seize it.
why are you doing this for us?
because i love you, i want to say,
but rarely do i find the words,
as i hand him the bag
along with my heart,
my own hope and faith
spread thin among so many,
and always the worst face of all
at the very end,
after a few joyful ones,
and some who are so close
to dead
they cannot speak at all,
but this last one,
always mine,
the one i take home
with me in my heart,
his crown of thorns
resting on his head,
his face ravaged,
he is the filthiest
and most frightening of all,
he stands and stares at me,
holding his ground,
eyes boring into mine,
wasted sometimes,
at the same time ominous
and filled with depair.
i see him coming,
he comes straight toward me,
as i want to run,
but can't and won't
and don't dare,
i taste fear,
we meet and stand
eye to eye,
tasting each other's
terror
like tears
mingling on one face,
and then i know,
i remember,
if this were my one
last chance
to touch God,
to reach out and be
touched by Him
in return,
if this were my only chance
to prove my worth
and my love for Him,
would i run?
i stand my ground,
remembering
that He comes
in many forms,
with many faces,
with bad smells,
and perhaps even
angry eyes.i hold out the bag,
no longer brave,
but merely breathing,
remembering why i have come into this
dark night
and for whom …
we stand equal and alone,
death hovering
between us,
as he takes the bag at last
whispers God bless
and moves on,
and i know once again
as we drive home,
silent and victorious,
that once again
we have been
touched
by the hand of God.