Homeless in Dallas

Street Level

You press your face to the office glass,

Street level, street clothes

Outside looking in.

You comb greasy hair,

Eyes wild, unfocused,

Familiar stranger.

Downtown Dallas is your home

Shop doorway, underpass

Restless slumber

I should invite you in

Warm coffee, cozy seat

Hear your story

Do you have family near?

Fatherless children, lonely wife

Life out of control

I wish I could fix it all

Reconciliation, comfort

A roof and bed

Inside out, you’re just like me

Flesh and blood,

A man with needs

I watch you turn away

And I remember the command

To love the least of these.

Silent Vigil

Family Christmas’ in Chama, NM

Peering out the window, the glass

foggy from my breath, I spot

the peaks of the San Juan Mountains

in the distance, shrouded by

a wintry haze. Cottonwoods

stretch their branches in

the field across the cement

lot. I follow the icy

tufts as they fall, twirling

and fluttering to thicken

the frosty blanket covering

the ground where

crunching leaves no longer

sound. Fire toasting my back

begs to melt the ground

outside the window, smeared

from my fingers clearing the

view. Outside, my wooden friends

bend and shudder under the

imposing burden of snowflakes

and ice. Their bark, dry and cracked,

reaches upward, clawing,

begging, pleading, praying for relief,

warmth, and for budding blossoms

to form a green shaggy

mane on barren limbs. What diligence

it must take to praise their Creator

unconditionally, arms stretched

upwards towards an ivory

dusted sky.

Written January 27, 2009