Mogadishu in Toronto

(December, 1992)

Eyes wild
he rushes me
his arms threshing
above his head.
No room
no time
for all the nice
proprieties.
Suddenly I kneel
in his path—he comes
to his own knees
reaching out
desperately
for the simple food in my hands.
I give. I stare.

Ravenous he
stuffs his gaping
mouth and gulps
noisily
from the cup I offer him.
And who am I
to feed my starving
brother in this tortured time?
Mogadishu
is in Toronto—
hearts are hungering, hopes
dare
everywhere. ...
Compassion calms.
Here I hold my brother now
trembling, stark, and stinking
in my arms.

Author's note: In common with most cities on the American continent, Toronto has its homeless and its starving. I have met them on the street; I have met them in my prison work. The homeless are primarily those who have lost touch with the presence of God—or never even known it; the starving are primarily those whose hearts cry out for the compassion of Christian love.

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Home: a spiritual concept
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