are you listening?

As I peered out through the dirt- and rain-smeared windows at the tenement housing and the litter-strewn streets, I wondered to myself where the people were who cared even minimally and whether nurturing one's home was a foreign thought.

Or if they were incapable of doing anything about it, not through any fault of their own, but because someone or some system had let them down. not one soul walking on the streets for block upon block; the silence of their poverty cried out in volumes.

Bricks have fallen, shelters have tumbling overhangs and there is no sign of hope in sight. A woman who was speaking rather loudly to someone on her cell phone or blue tooth -- arguing, actually -- interrupted my thoughts.

"I am a servant of the Lord and will not be caught up in your web of lies, your little games. Freddy owes me $20,000 and I will be getting that money from him one way or another."

She spoke loudly, unconcerned that she was disturbing anyone's reading or sleeping while on this train. The riders looked around nervously at each other, uncertain if Blue Tooth Lady was capable of exacting harm or not; compassion for her plight was co-mingled with fear for the life of the person on the other end of the conversation.

"Oh, I will not be toyed with any longer!" Visions of boiling pots on top of stoves swarmed in this particular rider's head and I suddenly felt compelled to pray that Blue Tooth Lady would be exiting the train at one of the next stops.

As the towns sped by, desolate-looking and barren in these mid-winter months, one could only hope that the spring thaw would bring a return of hope and happiness, a renewed outlook and peace to the those who live in such squalor. These projects and the folks who reside therein have probably long since stopped believing that hope exists, and Blue Tooth Lady gets off at the train depot in one such town.

I wondered as she departed from the train if there is any such thing as hope in her, having now learned over the prior 15 minutes she was destitute and it was most undoubtedly Freddy's fault. I asked God to bless her in her day and before she stepped onto the platform, she turned to see if she had gathered up all of her bags.

It was then I learned that she had no phone in her possession.

please

• i hear God does not give you more than you can handle
• i consider that to be an untruth
  
• officially on overwhelm
• am struggling with my faith
• my religion
• my thoughts ramble
• am disconnected
• thank you God for at least
  
• listening to the prayers of my friends
• why do You not respond to me?
  
• You are silent and have remained thusly
  
• for months with me now
• is this a confession?
  
• might be
• have been attending a different Church
  
• different meaning not Catholic
• i like it
• i feel something when i am there
• i am moved within me
• i take notes
• they go over Scripture in depth
• i am hungry
• i am thirsty
• but feel as though i am checking out
• God help me
• please
  

willow

wondering, waivering, wishing
praying
weeping willow

while i should be in the midst of rejoicing,
my heart still is aching
the strain i am under is
at times
unbearable.

my arms, desiring to reach up
toward You
instead, sagging down
toward the ground
(weeping willow)

the weight in my heart
is almost too much to bear
the pruning i am under,
too much of a strain

but You trust in me.

why?
i have failed You time and again
and yet
You still are there for me
steadfast and true
because like the roots of the
willow
i search for water

and as Your word says,
...and (s)he shall be like a tree which is planted
near the running waters,
which shall bring forth its fruit, in due season.

(how long?)

victim soul

if i could breathe for you,
i would.

if i could take on your suffering,
it would be mine to receive,
gratefully.

i sit bedside and watch you, trusting in
God's mercy.

i remain silent in prayer as you sleep, beseeching
His grace.

it is felt deep within that you
are not far from the Cross and that you,
my dear mother,
are sharing in His very suffering.

i solemnly aver, dear one, that
i would become your personal victim's soul
if it would mean
your agony could be alleviated
if only for a moment.

then i, too,
would be united with Jesus in the same way,
and you, dear one,
could sit vigil at my
bedside.

lint.

tossed around, tumbling
low
all secrets, being
extracted.

gathering in the same place,
softly staying together
strong, unified
defiant.

yet in one swift movement,
they are gathered together
collectively
carelessly, thrown.

until a new amount begins to gather,
and the cycle starts anew.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

~~e.e. cummings