In you

In you

your dirt-flecked face

fallow skin and rusted eyes

your pock-mocked arms

covered in mosquito bites

your sweat-stained shirt

fraying seams like hunger pangs

your tightened lips

chapped like sun-dried cinder blocks

your calloused hands

crunchier than dying leaves

your raspy voice

weakened from a lack of use

In you

there is no grief

for absence of true joy

has left you in the dark

unknowing what it even means to grieve.

In you

the tears are few

without another wound

sustained from shouts or fists

reminding you of what it's like to weep.

Here you are: a sacrament waiting to be hosted. Here you are: with soiled feet that need washing.

Here you are: a blessed opportunity for me

to experience God

in you.

In you your hopeful eyes attention-thirst like desert sands

your timid smile

untrained and weak like infants' necks

your shaky hand

that grips the pencil, learns to write

your given name

now newly heard as beautiful

your blooming heart

in need of rain, in need of love.

In you

there is a hope

that one day you might find

a different kind of home

what until now was buried oh so deep

in you.

In you

I see the Kingdom,

I see the image,

I see the likeness,

I see the Christ.