A Sparrow Falls

Tiny hands, tiny fingers too
sister is crying on the floor
brother beside her is scratching
the bites, the sores, festering.

What is their name?

Orphan child,
forgotten,
forget.

The world is a cruel place
the wars, the hunger, lingering.

They are the first we forget

to their plastic cup with a spoon of mush
to the dirt floor, to the damp rain
huddled together, sharing warmth, diseases.

Brother wonders what the boys will say
their collared uniforms, his tattered tee,

Sister is tired
of fetching water,
the crying, the tears, unrelenting.

Mama? Who is mama today?

…or who isn’t?

Tiny fingers keep grasping
but the air is too hard to hold
its emptiness too big, too impossible, exhausting.

She will live without regret
there was nothing to forget

A sparrow falls.

More Real

I want to be more real;
More than bones and flesh,
More than words written on the page
And spoken without meaning,
More than actions taken
Out of fear, compulsion and common practice.
I want to be seized
By the power of The Great Affection*,
Seized by words Immortal,
Birthed by death-defying Grace.
I do not want religion,
Do not want my works remembered
By what these hands have done,
But by weakness
Filled for the glory of One;
Made something in Faith,
Compelled by Love transforming
Into what is more real.


*"Great Affection" taken from Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel