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Transferring a couple of posts from an old blog to this one.  This is a repost from 2007.

I wrote this poem after volunteering one night at a local homeless shelter. As we sat together and I listened to the stories of the men there, it struck me that they knew more about faith than I could ever hope to. It occurred to me that scripture for them meant something very different than it did to me. While it is easy for me to sit back in a classroom chair and dissect the various literary genres and devices used to construct this book that we call the Bible, the scriptures for these men were a living offer of hope and of a future. What did I really have to share with them except my time, for they taught me more than I could have ever taught them.

Forced Asceticism (2007)

(Dedicated to Michael)

You homeless?



Release from these shackles-

The fruit

Of truth proclaimed

The mirror’s reflection


Identity Reclaimed

Illusory this poverty

Worn like a yellow star

Or a blood-red letter –

Maybe a millstone necklace.

Liberation realized

in the scripture spoken;

The Word reborn



“This world is not my home.”