Poetry

Liberation

written by: trevor

Holding you in the palm of my hand
I observe your tiny feet and hope you'll live and walk
these stony paths to the pump to get water.
Blessing you in your meekness and gentleness
You are Christ to me today.

Asking for holes in the palms of my hands, receiving
you instead. Seeking the holes in my feet and finding
this road winding to mud bricks and thatched roofs under
baobab trees, the stigmata in the holy poverty of an
unknown African village where suffering and love are
found in their wholeness. Knocking on the door for the
hole in my side, opening it into the life of a broken
child.

Listening to you I understand that you are an end in
itself and not a means to an end. Looking at you I see
that you are a beginning in yourself and a new way for me
to see. Loving you I feel you living in my heart. Suffering love.