A mystical poem in honor of Pascha on April 20, 2025. Truly He is risen.
1. “Go, for you have been sent”, I can only laugh, To hide my tears, I must become a fool I took His words seriously, I was in need of a place, To hang my heart, A world to call my own But once I found myself there, On mission and stalking, The tears and smiles, Spoke loud volumes The precious ones, That I spoke to, The sad mothers, The proud daughters 2. Fallen and broken, Beautiful and gleaming, Singing out the last bits, Of their hearts All with hollow, hungry eyes, And gorgeous, crooked smiles, Sleeping in squats, And crowded shelters Waiting in line to eat, Waiting in line to go to bed, Waiting in line to take a shower, Waiting in line to wait These are my people, Living in cars, Camping in tents, Hiding in abandoned buildings 3. Blessed are the panhandlers, Blessed are the buskers, Blessed is the girl crying in the parking lot, And the child in her arms Blessed are the street kids, Tripping their wandering ways, Through psychedelic midnight adventures, Just trying to survive I see you all, I love you all, Tell me your stories, Grant me the privilege, Of witnessing you shine For I have come alive among you, With nowhere to lay my head, I have walked the lonely road, And held out my thumb Art: Odilon Redon, “Christ In Silence”, (1897)
Art: Odilon Redon, “Christ In Silence”, (1897)