Homeless

Here are my thoughts about a homeless woman I’ve befriended…

Lee

I saw you often on the street

Pushing your cart. I noticed your feet.

Dirty… in flip flops, I noticed your feet.

Clothes were not ragged, but fancy and filmy,

Long ruffled skirts, hanging way low,

But not long enough, for still they would show

Those thick, dirty flip flops and crusty brown feet.

Waist length gray hair. In days long ago

It prob’ly was pretty. How do I know?

Now it just hangs there, not curly, not straight,

In no current fashion, just all out of date…

Seems to me it’d be hot when the sun’s pouring down,

Or cold and all sticky when it rains on your crown.

That long, dirty hair, hanging, tied with a bow.

Pushing your cart; it’s always piled high.

When not being pushed, it’s waiting nearby.

All your life is in there; boxes, bags, and a coat.

Do you fear losing all to some druggie cut-throat?

Do you sleep by that cart? Where do you sleep?

Ever lean on that cart, exhausted, and weep?

I’ve seen you push your cart.. I’ve never seen you cry.

One day you were sitting on the curb in the shade,

Your cart nearby… Now, could I persuade

You to tell me your name, if I told you mine?

“Lee,” you said softly, your mouth a straight line,

Looking down at your feet. “So, Lee, How can I pray for you?”

“However you pray… Whoever you pray to…

I need Hope,” you said. So that’s what I prayed.

Jesus offers you hope. He doesn’t mind

Those crusty brown feet. He always is kind.

That dirty gray hair, the cart full of stuff…

He sees beyond that, through the attitude tough…

“Dear Jesus,” I’m praying, “give hope to this Lee…

The same measure of hope You have given to me.

It’s You, Yourself, Lord, that Lee needs to find.”

Norma Jean Thomas

2008