Free Lunch

They only come for the free lunch, I’m told.
Someone said they’re always high.
I’ve seen them come a time or two before,
But they usually don’t settle in.

They wore red when they came in today,
Heads lowered and eyes averted.
They sat in the back pew
As if stillness made them more silent.

I had just started preaching about light.
About hope and kindness.
He started brushing her long hair,
And I thought it must hurt to work out all those knots.

She took over brushing and they stayed.
They seemed to be listening this time.
Who’s to say they didn’t listen before?
By the end, her hair was smooth and tied back.

We sang and I prayed,
Asking for us to be refilled with light, love and grace,
Unable to offer anything in return,
Because when it comes to faith,

We’re all here for the free lunch.

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About BearsGrl8

I'm a geek, a "Supernatural" fangirl, a progressive, an introverted loud-mouth, a damn fine cook, a Bears fan, a Blackhawks fan, and a fantastic aunt.

Posted on October 19, 2014, in Church, Ministry, Poetry, Small Town Life, Woman Preacher and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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