The Church

The church aint some fancy building, made of  bricks or morter. 

No the church is me and you. flesh and blood. living, breathing stones.

People see us, they see  jesus his only soon.

The one who gave himself to die on a cross,

for the lost. the loney and the hurting.


If you think your to bad, to come

and turn to God, i got news, he

knows all about  you, every

detail.


So you aint to bad, come to him 

and let him love you and set you

free. 


He`s waiting for you, so just

come as you are.  Amen.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace