Almost blank faces crowd a room
Filled with waiting lives
And immigrant wives, many mothers.
Subdued noise roars at times,
Waves of realization
Mixed with hope
Wash over the cheap seats,
As people consider evening meals.
Always crowded, growing more so,
With decisions made in a Capitol removed
From the reality of the people,
Trained to come to this place
Of friendly resignation mixed with joy.
Sad-eyed children and fathers,
Ex-cons unloading trucks,
Mothers with kids in school
Stocking shelves for themselves
And new friends--community.
The food moves through
With amazing, speedy determination,
The fruit of charity
And long volunteer, feel-good effort
In a place longing for justice.
Tomorrow seldom comes to mind
As today fills the mind and soul
With trouble enough,
As the Good One taught,
Faith seeks a better day and season.
In this place
The ugly mixes with human beauty,
Wonder blends with despair,
And human capital produces a knowing power,
Whispering, hunger will end, someday.
March 2, 2014–Transfiguration Sunday
5 days ago