by Carole Turner


I can read of you and I feel something.
I even cry when I see you thin and hungry.
I judge you when you hold a sign, when you smell, or look ugly.
I drive by you walking in the rain.
I see you sleeping on the street again.
When I touch you, I want to weep.
When you are locked away and your babies we keep.
I visit your home where you sell yourself away.
I give you groceries and your child a book.
I don’t know your life or the abuse you took.
But I can’t look away anymore.
I can’t leave even with a wide open door.
So what am I to do? You are now really a “You”.
I see your face when I pray, when I look at my children.
I see your face again, again and again.
I read of you and I feel something.
I look at you and I see you.
I look at you and I see Jesus.



About the author:

carole-turnerCarole Turner
Baton Rouge, Louisiana, United States
41 yr old story teller, singer, artist, Orphan care advocate. Married 14 yrs to Dean. Mother of Evangeline, who has Juvenile Diabetes, miracle of birth. Steele, first adoption miracle and Abel our second adoption miracle from Ethiopia.

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poetry [compassion]: the poor

by About Guest Blogger time to read: 1 min