STREET CORNER PRAYER

He heard, He heard
The words & the strums of the cord
From the tongue & the breath of the lungs
The wails & travails plus the mourns
Of that scorn in rags...clothes so torn
& called corn because his feet had corns
That scorn was a beggar whose guitar strummed -
night & day with a prayer song
His song was “thy kingdom come & save us from -
this body, this form that brings us scorn”
night & day... yet he strummed
yet he slept even as his heart drummed
with meditations that sought levitations
to the presence of the king of creation...
out in the cold nights he cared not for the storm
indifferent he was about the sun
his heart’s song only was the form, the form -
that was perishable...the form that brought kings scorn

ambulance after ambulance had come & gone
sirens had become an hourly song
emergencies...emergencies...none was fun
& still he strummed “thy kingdom come
& save us from, this form that brings us scorn”
So he sung till the salvation had begun
The ambulance began to return
Without the sirens...not even one
Finally his kingdom had come
To save the form that had brought all scorn
Smiles wore some...laughter cried some
The failing heart had been made strong
The bleeding hands & feet had heard the song
Of the scorn & heard his solemn strum
Gone was the tumour...tears made humour
Spirit had been imparted in humus
This good news brought rumour
That He heard, He heard
The words & the strums of the cords
Of the scorn by the corner called corn
Indeed He heard
For different was the scorn’s song
“thank you God, for your kingdom has come,
Thank you God for you have heard my song

Thank you God for you have rewarded my scorn”
As you go home today, check the street corner for scorn
Toss a dime but don’t miss the song
It might not be fun but mime the strum
& let your thought’s gravitations
Follow his song’s navigations
As you hunk your horn
If you can, buy some bread for this weary head
& wet the throat of this raspy breath
Don’t shed a tear but dare to care
For the street corner’s scorn
For the next ambulance might be yours
& don’t forget
that he hears, hears
the words & strums of the cords
from the guitar & tongue of the scorn with corns