They were so poor,
their children played on dusty roads;
Mother Mary
cleaned her face with her own tears,
the hand
that once touched her became a clinched fist

Ana didn’t want to bring another child into this world,
but a family
was the only way they knew how to live;
they didn't own anything
except the flowers in the window

They need
to learn more about their people;
The only way
she could feed her baby was her body;
She felt safe
until her son needed real food

She prayed
for her body to keep fighting;
fighting for her children
her ******* remained full;
He knew she was kind
but she didn’t feel that way

The dust covered her heart
and the shoes she wore;
so he bought her a dress
even to wear in the hot desert sun
It was red
and fit her like sin
between two people in love

When she wore it
the other women watched quietly
She wore it for a week;
every day without washing
He watched her quietly
knowing she was strong
Then she took the dress off
and kissed Mary’s hand

She gave the dress to her best friend,
Juanita Hernandez;
Juanita washed the dress
while Ana fed her child;
the dress would be shared
because they shared the dust in the air

Their husbands couldn't wait
for their wife’s turn with the dress;
a red dress was for love
and not sin in the desert sun

They were so poor
the dust covered their memories;
but the dress was bright
and they wore it with dignity

A poor woman
is as beautiful as a rich woman
even if her stomach is empty
and her heart has become hard

She saw the other men
look at her when it was her turn;
she knew they wanted her
even though she was so sad,
the dress made them see;
They knew how she could love them,
but instead
she gave it back to Juanita Hernandez

Then she gave thanks to Mary again;
For her children still loved her
and her husband remembered why
he gave her the dress

to care only for the poor,
without compromise;
the idealism of the ages,
the easiest of all politics;
we must sacrifice no matter what;
but who said,
the poor will always be with us;
a man who was heartless
or was he wise?
is the reality of the present,
our cynicism of their plight
or is their struggle
the measure of our hearts in his sight;
is their pain assuaged
by our actions or even in our words?
still we struggle on our own;
our own horizons as far as we can manage,
while we think of a beautiful memory,
distracted by the past,
we hope the leaves have fallen at last
and wait for them to return
but they will only fall again;
like the tide that reaches for the land
or prayers for the things we must;
they will always be with us

Falling leaves
Rising memories
A feast for the eyes
We serve one another
Love and understanding
It is the day to give thanks
For the many blessings of life
But to those who can only weep
We pray for your deliverance
And the harvest of your faith
Even though we always fall short
Because perfection is not purpose
But instead it is in how we forgive
And I too have failed my friend
As impossible as walking on water
To shower love upon my neighbor
I confess how I am unable to do so
Still I find myself sheltered in comfort
And though you have done no wrong
You have felt the sword of a mortal fate
But by the depths of your heart and soul
Your place among the blessed is reserved
For in every smile you pass along the way
There is a sadness not unlike yourself
They have not found the meaning of pain
Only the way to soothe a broken heart
In earthly treasures and a poison glass
And so from my own sadness I will ask of you
Is it the will of your smile to forgive a sinner?
For what is in you knows the weakness in me
And what is in me wants to love what is in you

Remember us?
The ones you forgot,
The people you ignore.
You tried to forget us,
But we're still here.
Living on the streets,
In hospitals,
In shelters.
Some of us are lucky,
We have people who care,
But most of us are forgotten,
Abandoned,
Ignored.
Some of you try to help,
Most just walk right on by.
We are the forgotten,
The sick,
The dying,
The poor.
The parts of the world you try to ignore.
Look around,
The world seems fine,
Until you read between the lines.

To ride on top of the train,
not inside
To eat only bread and salt,
not speeches
To live as only the poor would,
not talk
To be threatened by differences,
not welcomed

To humble yourself before man,
not above
To turn your heart to peace,
not hate
To see yourself as light
not flesh
To walk equally with all men,
not apart

To pray for wisdom in life,
not advantage
To pray for peace of mind,
not cunning
To pray for love of life,
not self
To pray for humanity,
not glory