When fear obscures the faces of our brothers and sisters
We seek voices that reach deep into the well of divine love
Not the love concerned with fairy tales and pink doilies
Not the love inscribed on sweet tasting hearts and obsessed with happy endings

We thirst for the love found in the tying of boot laces for marching
Voices hoarse from chanting, singing and shouting
Hands clenched in unison praying

We yearn for the love found weeping in the garden
Protesting on the bridge
Lamenting the perils of our city
Rooted in the one who gave us breath

And when those well worn boots are put away
Hoarse voices restored to their soothing timbre
Praying hands relaxed to embrace the stranger

Only then will I give thanks
For courage that made an appearance
The spirit has not abandoned us
And I am in the company of the saints