A Walk of Faith
Letters to God: If Only We Were Sparrows
An Epistolary Poem—Wings of Compassion
Dear God,
Sunshine streamed through the rain-washed Autumn day, a morning greeting I embraced with mug in hand and music softly humming by my side. The neighborhood birds flitted around the backyard: cheerful robins, fiery cardinals, and singing wrens, each jostling for the same bounty offered on the feeder’s perch. Grounded souls, too, joined the agape feast. Squirrels and chipmunks filled their bellies with table scraps, a reminder of my Mamma’s rule: no one leaves hungry.
A jarring memory pierced my daydream: a recent trek down Melnea Cass Boulevard that revealed a chorus of lost souls sprawled across grime-painted streets, society’s discards, the world’s filth clinging to their very marrow. And this is just one brushstroke in a global mural of inequality, where my backyard robins thrive, bellies plump with privilege while over a quarter of humanity wrestles with gnawing emptiness. In this grotesque paradox, the question burns raw: why must hunger stalk the world?
The Scriptures bid us watch the birds in flight, unburdened of tasks. They plant no seed, nor hoard their daily bread, yet nature’s bounty fills their every need. And what of those broken and bare, shivering over empty plates? Are they not more deserving of your graces than our feathered friends? Reconciliation chokes in smoke from empty hearths, as so many live on the edge. After millennia of trying, desperation lingers, and Your voice remains muffled in the wind.
“Blessed are the poor,” for theirs is an inheritance far greater than anything this world can offer. Meanwhile, they suffer within Your grand design. Governments falter, the opulent clutch their treasures, and trust wanes like a fading moon as we look to the stars for answers. Though the world be bankrupt, kindness will be my currency, an invitation to share in the feast. For when the shepherd comes to cull the herd, I hope to be grazing amongst the sheep rather than gamboling with the goats.
Your humble servant,
Sam
As always, a huge THANK YOU for taking the time to read my poem. Without you, my voice would be a whisper floating in the air.
