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Room at the Table

Room at the Table

there’s a photo

of a little girl

in a pink shirt

holding a clear bag

that holds all her

worldly possessions

and she’s hugging it

close to her chest

one hand over the other

as if it were

a stuffed animal

or a blanket

and she has this look

on her face

so calm, so strong, so quiet, so sad

and all around her

is complete chaos

and uncertainty

she’s an immigrant

who was born into

uncontrollable circumstances

her eyes are old eyes

in a small face

she hasn’t a home

to go back to

or one to go to

now

she’s caught in a struggle

of power, money, greed, hatred

and she has no power

no money

no greed

no hatred

she just knows she can’t go home

and she’s got no home

and nothing makes sense

in her head

she sees people crying

and yelling

and fighting

and hurting

and she’s standing

in the middle of it

still as a statue

not crying

not yelling

not fighting

she stands there

frozen

in her pink shirt

hugging her bag

to her chest

with hurt in her eyes

completely helpless

in a mess

she didn’t make

and I pray for her

I pray she knows

in her little heart

there is a God

who never forsakes

who hears her

who sees her

who feels her

who will give her the strength

to endure

“I know what it is to be in need,

and I know what it is to have plenty.

I have learned the secret of being content

in any and every situation, whether well fed

or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

I can do all this through Him who gives

me strength.”

– Philippians 4:12-13

TL

Published inPoetry