I look out my upstairs window
If it were not for the trees
It would be a beautiful moonscape
Does the moon have ice piles?
Does inland seawater splash on them
Growing them and turning them white?
Is it cold? It must be for how could it not
Is it I who has to fetch two bucketsful
Of this grayish-green liquid and
Carry it back over rough terrain
The length of two football fields?
I will need help. I will need strength
I will need encouragement and
Mostly I will need prayer
There is a small fire burning
The water will be boiled
We will scrap the barren soil
For the growth of something we can boil
And make a soup for our hungry children
I wonder about all of this
There is hunger everywhere
Where is the man with the loaves and fish?
Oh! I forgot. He turned that over to us
We have allowed this sad situation
We were self-centered; ignoring
The tyranny occurring about us
We allowed division and then winners
And losers. We didn’t follow instruction
It is not a moonscape even though it could be
It is not I who has to tread over ice for water
Or dig for weeds and grass to make soup
And watch our starving children die
But somewhere, not far away
We have the same hopeless condition
The children will die, but the trust in
The redeemer will only get stronger
Faith, hope, and love; the perfect gifts
For the One who needs nothing and
As a thankyou gave His life for us
We are a strange breed
We have much to learn
Stanski
January 12, 2022 ^
Steve Haarman 