Tuesday, August 17, 2010

In The palm of His Hand.

Palms. Everyone has two of them. You can hold something gently because it is delicate or frightened. You can use them to grip tightly to keep something from dropping or getting away. You can put them together to applaud a person,a performance or to express happiness. But the best palms of all belong to God. I usually stay away from truly sad poems but this one wants to be written.

In The Palms Of His Hands

Where are the lost
Who fell between the cracks?
Children of the streets,
With none to watch their backs.

They hang around the bars
Hoping at least to find
Someone who will take them home that night
For whatever they have in mind.

Bodies and minds aging faster
Than they were ever meant to be.
Huddling in doorways or empty boxes
Trying to find some peace in sleep.

But the cold steals through their ragged clothes
And rats run across their feet.
The terrors that their parents sowed
Are the tragedy they reap.

Sometimes at night the angels come
To take them to a place
Where they can be a child again
Far from this ugly space.

Please don't turn away when you see
These children of the street.
You could be their savior,
Their voice when they can't speak.

3 comments:

  1. a wonderful take on the theme...we are His hands when we let Him use us...

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  2. A Tribute to Theatre
    The Murugan Theatre. It is one of the theatres in Thiruthangal, a small town near the famous industrial town of Sivakasi in Tamil Nadu. The small town had three theatres in those days (1980s). Chinnaknai Theatre was in the northern corner of the town and Balaji Talkies was at the other end, in the southern corner

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