Friday, March 21, 2008

Good Friday

This is a poem I wrote more than a few years ago. It was in response to encountering the homeless while in Washington DC.


Good Friday

I. Intersections

As you stretch out fingers for coins,

I notice maps to places only

dreams have been. There is

distance in your eyes.

Clink, clink of quarters into cups.

And I deny you.


II. Georgetown

Crippled bodies uphold walls

where mutual funds pay for mochas

and books on poverty.

Eyes avert dilapidated lives,

bitter reminders all backs can

support brick and mortar.

Resting with change from step-ahead,

step-around, step-aside strangers.

And I deny you.


III. Union Station

Agent Orange glazes your eyes and ideas.

You tell me stories of jungles and war.

Do you know I have no knowledge of war?

And when you ask I will say no?

Ransom for peaceful sleep.

And I deny you.


IV. Sunrise

In the distance, I hear the rooster crow.

Am I your modern-day disciple?

Eyes lifted to see eyes, ear tuned to ear

I will not be Peter anymore.

2 comments:

Mercynursey said...

I remember this poem - it is poignant and touching. I am glad you put it on your blog. And I thank God for your sweet spirit that wrote it in the first place. I love the poem and you. The teacup stuff is neat too! xo

lisagh said...

amy - sorry to leave this message on an unrelated post, but please email me re: monkey's spring travels! he'd LOVE to visit Oklahoma City :)