Poem November 7, 1983 Issue

All Are Welcome

HAZEL CONSTANCE NETHERTON

He stood outside the Reading Room
pressing his face against the glass
reading the Bible,
in faded jeans,
long hair, tangled beard;
looking tired, hungry.
His lips moved as he scanned a page
then peered to see inside.

He shrugged and stepped away to leave,
turned suddenly, as if propelled
by an unseen force,
and shyly opened the door.
"Can I come in?" he asked.
The librarian smiled, "Of course."
"I saw the sign, 'All Are Welcome,'
but I didn't know
if it meant someone like me."
He ran his fingers through his hair
trying to smooth it.

"My grandma used to have those books.
She took me to your Sunday School.
My folks got divorced.
I got into drugs; stuff like that.
Just been wandering.
But when I saw the Bible there
in your window, I remembered
back to that Sunday School teacher
who said that God loved me."
He looked away, embarrassed then.
"I sure am tired of traveling.
Could I go back in there and read?"