By Josh Whitlock
I look out the window of the train.
I see the profanities on buildings in fresh new paint.
And I wonder, “Where am I going?”
“What will come up from the seeds that I’m sowing?”
I step into the station, and everyone is so grim.
I can’t smile, for my mouth is too full of what I don’t say.
I just look straight ahead and go on my way.
O, God, I want to show your love,
But, I fear I am not strong enough to stand.
Again, I am on the filthy ground, bleeding.
Again, I find myself needing your exculpation.
I wish that I were strong.
How I long to do your will.
But how wrong I am.
There is so little that I understand.
I only want to be a man that lives for you.
But I don’t know how, for I’ve never seen
A man except on tv, and I can’t trust Hollywood.
Now, I’m in the park, alone with my noontime meal.
A girl walks by too poor to eat, but not hungry enough to steal.
The smell of urine emanates from her clothes.
She holds her hand open to people with purses and wallets closed.
It’s easy to walk by her on their way to Moe’s Burrito.
If she were not so dirty, she would turn tricks,
But the shelters are so hard to get into, and nobody likes a smelly whore.
I offer her my meal, though I haven’t eaten since yesterday.
She offers to share, but I tell her to eat, for I’m not hungry anyway.
Come with me, my sister, for there is no reason to be lonely tonight.
My Father, who feeds the birds, will give you food and drink.
And after you drink, you will never thirst again.
Josh is currently a religion student at Georgia State University. He spends his time writing and dabbling in encaustic painting and mixed media art. He just moved back to Atlanta from Houston where he was a student pastor so he could live closer to his fiancee, Alex.