Inhaling and eating dust by day
That rose to his frail legs calloused and weather-beaten
From feet on paths well-trodden
He knew sandals and shoes, bare feet and hooves
Sauntering to and fro
Daily by the gate
Yea, to his fingers and palms open to receive
Coins and crumbsThat any could give,
Thoughtless or thoughtful… just any thing
On sunny days and rainy alike
There he sat, down by the gate
Awful his experience
Beautiful the gate he sat at…
As crowds upon crowds flocked the Temple
To worship and appeaseTo slaughter and sacrifice
And he, only to beg . . .
As dust rose and settled upon rising dust endlessly raised…
Came two guys unusual…
And he as usual begins to beg, not looking
Will you… just anything sirs…Only what I have do I give you
Says one…
What! Did I hear that well?
In Jesus’ Name, the Nazarene? Will I walk?!
What, that is really strange!!
Do I even believe it? Am I walking
Halleluiah! Praise to God!
Then a’ jumping and a’ shouting
Through the gates, truly beautiful, he fledInto the
And what a kafuffle in the
Behold, this is my day!
Written by Robert Magoola, December 2001.
No comments:
Post a Comment