I wrote this poem to mark a night at Nightshelter 2015 where I was serving. It is from an evangelistic point of view. It is raw, only few will hear the rhythm … but it conveys what occurred. I believe Father has been visiting Nightshelter by his Holy Spirit.
Knocking at the Night shelter
By Pastor Linda Clifford-Hayes
He avoided me like the plague
He knew I was onto him
He knew, I knew, just one word would make the difference
He knew, I knew he was ripe for the picking
I bided my time
Going round the houses(as they say)
Knowing the objectives for the night
Spoke to he, then she, then shim
Then hallelujah, domino…!
someone bored, found ‘the game’
little white dots on the hard black frame
This for me a native childhood pastime….
I knew I’d be Victor
We sit huddled in fours,
foreheads down, down down,
Different, but the same, in the game
Far apart ,but together,
amidst the now cold casserole
In this moment of fun and laughter
All problems shelved, halved(?)
(At least for a while …)
Douce, blanc , tres , knock….
I finally get his eye, his ears, his heart
And move in ….!
A majestic manoeuvre,
And To God be the glory