Who am I to blame the broken?
Who am I to look lowly upon
those who walk alone, who limp
in the shadows of doorways,
who have come slowly, then gone
with the night, to no home and no one.
Who am I to refuse such a traveler?
For I've seen in their eyes a thousand songs
that I've sang in my heart, and a thousand roads
to which my own heart belongs,
and my feet, though weary, have not
traveled long. So I walk
with no home and no one.
Who am I to follow their words?
It is my soul that instructs, that illumines my way
down a road of illusion, for distance is time
and this path is constructed by the time
that we claim. But we are the truth, or so
we become. I look at the weary
and the hells they have flown, and offer
a shelter, a new view of the sun --
I am a home with no path and no one.
1 comment:
I guess I am homeless, but I don't feel homeless. I am on the road for a reason--the Lord told me to hit the road. I abide in Him, so I am never alone and I am never homeless.
I have met people who lived in houses, but they weren't homes. These people are homeless because their lives were not built on the Rock and that Rock is Christ.
I have met a lot of homeless people on the road, in shelters, in missions. Some of these people are what I call the broke-down people. Their lives are broken for one reason or another. These people are really homeless because they don't know Jesus.
I have the Lord when I sleep outside, I have the Lord when I sleep under a bridge, I have the Lord when I sleep in a haystack or in someone's house. Really, I am not homeless--I just don't have a place with windows and doors, a roof and walls--a place to hang my hat, so to speak. But then, my hat is for my head, my backpack is for my back, my shoes are for my feet--and my feet are meant for walking.
I guess I'll keep walking and hitchhiking till the Lord tells me to stop. They maybe I will live in a house.
This is a very nice poem.
Post a Comment