His name is Santo and his joy is palpable.
He winces as they turn him on his side
And says "Amen! Amen!" as we pray for him.
His name means holy.
He hasn't walked since 15
And his mattress is chained to the dirt floor.
He has nothing.
He has everything.
He is without.
He is so rich.
He makes me weep tears
Of sorrow
Of confusion
Of injustice
Of admiration
Of inspiration
Of a faith I will never know.
We leave him simple gifts--
New sheets
A small radio
A plump pillow
And swat flies as he beams with gratitude.
And together, we sing
Santo, santo, santo
Yo quiero verte
And leave with him in our hearts.
2 comments:
Seriously, beautiful. I'm tearing up a little just reading a brief description. I'm saying another dinner is in order and you can tell us all about it!
Yes please! I would love that. And hopefully by then I'll have pictures. :)
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