Hungry Child
Somewhere close, somewhere nearby with fingers in ears.
There’s a silent cry of a child, if we choose to hear.
Optioned to look away from a sign pleading.
“Hungry child at home.” We take as misleading.
But if it’s true? What do we do?
Shove coins deeper into pocket, hoping it accrues?
A stop along the way. A meal from an app.
First course before the banquet home.
Crumbs falling on a lap.
Still the sound. Omnipresent and loud.
Resonating from an empty belly we wrap in a shroud.
There are no monsters in this closet.
No demons under the bed.
The grumble that haunts the child is a belly underfed.
Lies in bed and dreams unlike most.
Not of trinkets or baubles, but for a piece of toast.
Yet no baskets of fish and bread from man.
Forgotten are the second part of His command.
“Love my Father and those around just the same”
“Let children come to me.” The kingdom is theirs to claim.
Still the sound. Omnipresent and true.
Not seen or heard unless in field of view.
Feed the children. Feed and watch them bloom.
If not for the children of God then for whom?
He answers all. A man just has to ask.
Strength is given to all who take on the task.
Then, a single reach for a pocket. Compassion is the key.
Prayer to go along with faith the size, of a mustard seed.
A man now looks in the mirror. Practice what he preach.
Selfishness, blindness and apathy must be impeached
Still the sound. Omnipresent but now, can be heard.
The man knows what he must do. Lines no longer blurred.
Walk the path. Do what He would do and has done
Bring all children to the table….bring them all, to the Son
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