Such a beautiful Piece by JBBozie ❤
There he sat
under the great baobab tree
not a penny to his name
just a bowl of rusty coins
counting his sins
hoping they’d been forgiven over the years
he calls with his tins
but nothing else is broken among his wretched things.
weak knees that know not to listen
cracked soles that relinquish their duties,
palms for feet and a begging hand with a couple of fingers short for praise
but he still knows to look his Sunday’s best.
he saves to meet his saviour
but no seats welcome the patches in the back of his shorts.
no hands will join with his during the sign of peace,
funny how we pray “Our Father” but will not give a thought to calling him our brother.
nothing like the image of God
not half as perfect as us
even lower than poor man Lazarus,
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