Poem March 8, 1993 Issue

Mogadishu in Toronto

(December, 1992)

Godfrey John

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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