Poem: Last Night at the Corner of Poetry and Faith Streets

I found myself at the corner of Poetry and Faith Streets last night
I went to listen to hope and promise
I landed in a room called judgement
3 rounds after scores later I listened
I was there to set the course of someone’s dream
In the back in the corner was the residue of children
Parents to be bearing the course of wordsmiths
Wordsmiths to be praying to be recieved
At the corner of Poetry and Faith streets I placed my ears in a room called Judgement
Found their faith hoped for yet only four realized
And judgement spilled out to the smoke of affirmed ego and pride then
A man odors spilled for words amongst the egos
Ignored for courses his quatrans dismissive
This man stopped me and conversations began
He had the nerve to call me a pastor
Me
Just because my jacket was fresh
Or something about my beard’s depth
I confess
I am by gift
But that was no cause to detour
Down faith street while this man quoted psalms
I offered alms
But all he would offer is some lack of calm
So we walked
And walked
Talked
Then he balked
This dude had psalms and poetry burning from his lips
And he hungered for ears
Attention from spiritual peers
Told me how a visit earlier to some brothers nearly brought him to tears
Because his stomach ripped from a fear of never being refilled
So we walked down Faith Street
Moving away from Poetry Street
But the Judgement room stayed encasing
For around me I felt the eyes of angels pacing
Wondering
Will he ignore
Won’t he flee
He almost took a life
Just so that he could eat
Well, at that I rebuked his prose
The environment would also oppose
If we take a life for food
When can God show the care that Jesus showed
We stopped at the auto’s oasis
The eyes from the attendant barely registering honest and his friend’s patience
As this man was provided relief for his ear’s need
It happened to also be the moment where judgement would to me make its stand
Four
10
Seven
10
No score
Just an empty pocket and a promise I don’t know that’s ment to be kept
We stood as three under Faith Street’s light
Then the transition and down and away for this night
I walked with my brother who lost hope in the judgement room
Found hope in the judgement room when the streets were relocated
As for me
At the corner of Poetry and Faith Streets if you find me
I’m probably returning from helping another find a way thru the Light
Or being judged on whether I could hear well enough to be in the judgement room again.