You are God of the people
by which you have meant at all times
and in all places
the poor who are hungry
the poor who are homeless
the poor who are righteous
You are God of justice
by which you have loved the widows
and the fatherless
and the just who are
at their own expense
since there was first a widow
since the newest orphan became desolate
since ever justice had such name.
Yet I wonder what you think
of the girl who loved
who said yes when she should have said no
who stayed quiet when she should have spoken
and the man who took your name that hurt her.
I wonder what you think
of the people who took your name in water
but are still loving lies more than truth
who live the easy and the comfortable
who are running in fear, seeing neither
the running, nor the fear.
I know a person and a dozen scarred deep
by those water people, and thick
by your words at the wrong time
in the wrong place for
very wrong reasons.
And the mouths, oblivious, go on speaking.
I’m thinking of impact, Father, of words and love
And how this church of souls
by which I mean living people
have left craters I have seen
deep and tender.
And I don’t mean liturgy.