Poem based on 9th Sunday after Pentecost John 6:1-21

It seems like so little to go around
With the people of this world
Mothers holding children in their arms
Gifts of life from God
Only to be taken from them
By priorities
Not their own
That must be set by someone
I scream
As I watch the swollen bellies of starvation
Eat away at yet another
Someone else’s child
There must be someone
Who is doing this to these children of God
These sisters and brothers of mine
in the family of God
these to whom I claim my oneness
through Christ
as I take the bread and wine
but “who” is the cry that keeps the bowls empty
and the water filled
with yet another messenger of death
(so they gathered up)
“Who” is a finger pointed out there
aimed at some
and unchangeable
out there
as the children continue to die
(twelve baskets)
I turn off the TV
Turn down the thermostat
And turned off the lights
To get a good nights sleep in the comfort
And security
Of this home I have made for myself
And hope I do not have to hear
The pleas
For the children
On the car radio as I drive
To work
(with fragments)
I can’t stand to hear
Of the pain
That one is found
(from the five loaves)
who is responsible
and that one
out there
is made to correct this injustice
(left by those)
that is bringing starvation
to those
(who had eaten)
sisters and brothers of mine


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