Teach me

Our Father . . .

when i wander down
despair's streets,
and get mugged
in the alley of arrogance,
build me a home
at the corner
of Grace and Hope
in your kingdom;

your will
is that scratchy hair shirt
hanging deep
in the back of my closet p
nudge me to get it out
and wear it
till it becomes so frayed and soft,
i could never throw it out
in the garbage;

when i hunger
for a hubris-and-selfish sandwich
with all the fixings,
feed me
with the simple crust
of the Bread of Life;

tempted to charge
all my sins
on my revolving account
with the Evil One,
let me cut up my card
with your sheer mercy
and walk around
with pockets full of grace
to share with everyone
i meet.

Our Father . . .

(c) 2007 Thom M. Shuman