The Poor in Spirit

Don’t tell me that the sun’s too harsh 

Until you find yourself 

Sleeping on the street 

Thirsty 

Until you find yourself 

Unkempt and abandoned

Don’t tell me that the summer of ‘23 is too harsh 

Can money buy us poverty? 

Will we always have the poor among us 

Because we choose to not do good to them

Whenever we want 

Like You said we could 

Do we perpetuate our differences 

When we give 

Enough but barely?

You said we wouldn’t always have You 

Like we used to 

But could it be

That You are here 

Among the powerless?

The caution that I am taught 

I practice every chance I get to serve 

A caution that keeps me from security 

Does my holding back withhold me 

From the one thing I try to protect?

Our tall structures casting shadows

To guard us from the light 

Watch the images of a generous Love 

Waiting in the shade 

at our feet 

hoping for some callous generosity

What do we know of misery?