Tent City by Amy Jean
Tent City – What a pity!
I wonder if the mayor thinks it pretty?
Or does she close her eyes, as she drives by?
It’s cold outside.
And I’d like to know why transformation isn’t happening?
Buildings empty, workers at home
Can’t we transform empty space so these people have a place
to lay their heads, when they go to bed?
I understand some might refuse
But it shouldn’t be an option to junk up the city.
I’m sorry, tent city is not pretty.
Trash all around and donations piled on the ground
Is there’s something they can do for me or for you?
Clean offices, stock shelves, build houses, deliver mail
A bath, a meal, a suit, a resume, the want ads & a place to stay.
Coaching, a lesson, maybe some practice role-play.
Basic drills, no frills, then send them on their way.
A better life, less strife,
and community support
Then, Our City can go back to being pretty!
Unnoticed by Amy Jean
I’d rather be a raindrop on your windshield, looking in at you.
Or the cobweb on the windowsill, I’d see everything you do.
Even a weed on the path, you’d bend down to pull me.
I’d rather be an acorn falling from a tree, knocking sense into your head,
Or the icicle on an eve’s trough, keeping track of what’s said.
The flag on your mailbox, the postman pushes me back.
I’d rather be a rock on the path, causing people to step up.
Even a mushroom on moss, you kick in the air as you pass.
Or the branch sticking out, forcing everyone to take a hard left.
I’d rather be a note in the margin, forcing you to rethink history.
Or the point of your pen, because I write again and again.
Even the holes in the paper rings running through my centers.
I’d rather be a pothole in the road, bouncing you out of your seat.
Or the tire rubber on the highway you swerve rather than meet.
Even the roadkill off to the side, you call to have removed.
I’d rather be a crumb on the bar counter, scrutinizing the drunk.
Or the coaster you set your drink on to absorb the sweat.
The hook under the bar, where you hang your purse.
I’d rather be the sticky notes on the kitchen counter, providing a reminder.
Or the hooks by the door, keeping track of your keys.
The phone charger plugged in the wall to make sure you get your calls.
At least someone would notice me!
Deuteronomy 15, NIV
The Year for Canceling Debts
15 At the end of every seven years you must cancel debts. 2 This is how it is to be done: Every creditor shall cancel any loan they have made to a fellow Israelite. They shall not require payment from anyone among their own people, because the Lord’s time for canceling debts has been proclaimed. 3 You may require payment from a foreigner, but you must cancel any debt your fellow Israelite owes you. 4 However, there need be no poor people among you, for in the land the Lord your God is giving you to possess as your inheritance, he will richly bless you, 5 if only you fully obey the Lord your God and are careful to follow all these commands I am giving you today. 6 For the Lord your God will bless you as he has promised, and you will lend to many nations but will borrow from none. You will rule over many nations but none will rule over you.
7 If anyone
is poor among your fellow Israelites in any of the towns of the land the Lord your God is giving you, do not be hardhearted or tightfisted toward them. 8 Rather, be openhanded and freely lend them whatever they need. 9 Be careful not to harbor this wicked thought: “The seventh year, the year for canceling debts, is near,” so that you do not show ill will toward the needy among your fellow Israelites and give them nothing. They may then appeal to the Lord against you, and you will be found guilty of sin. 10 Give generously to them and do so without a grudging heart; then because of this the Lord your God will bless you in all your work and in everything you put your hand to. 11 There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore I command you to be openhanded toward your fellow Israelites who are poor and needy in your land.
Pothole Photo by Marc-Olivier Jodoin on Unsplash, Tents Photo by Edward Paterson on Unsplash, Drink coasters Photo by Lai YuChing on Unsplash, Cat with closed eyes Photo by Alvan Nee on Unsplash, Empty bed Photo by 🇸🇮 Janko Ferlič on Unsplash, Trash Photo by Jasmin Sessler on Unsplash, Wounds to wisdom Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash, community support Photo by tribesh kayastha on Unsplash, City view Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash, Illustrations by Eric Savage