When we began doing street ministry about 20 years ago, my mother wrote the poem below. Please read it, and let it remind us that we are our 'brothers' keeper.'
We are our brothers’ keeper, when he cannot keep himself.
While his survival seems bleaker…we will not weep,
We must not sleep, but gather bounty for our shelf.
We will not see him hungry, but will give him bread…
We will not look upon his nakedness, but clothe him instead.
We must not sleep while he has no place to lay his head
For if we are content in our brothers’ need, we are not living in Christ: but are dead.
We will not quench our thirst when our brother has nothing to drink
How could we rest, eat, sleep, drink or even think?
He is our brother, for we are all linked as one great chain
We all grow tired; we all bleed, and we should feel each other’s pain.
Our brother is the Black man in prison staring through the bars
He is our homeless White sister whose bed is the grass and her blanket is the stars.
He is the little Asian boy left in the house alone in the dark
He is the Native American girl who plays on the curb and has never seen the park.
Our brother is the Black man who cannot find a job or afford to learn a trade
He’s the Hispanic fruit picker working for wages she’s never paid.
He’s the Indian woman lying ill and unattended as all hope fades
He is the Haitian mother leaving her children alone as she dies of aids.
He’s the forgotten child who is left mute and afraid
He’s the old woman deserted by family as she grew wrinkled and grayed.
He’s the family man whose loved ones suffer because his job no longer exists
It’s been replaced by computers to save money, (badly needed), the C.E.O. insists.
Our brother is the lady of the night…the dealer dealing drugs
He’s lying in the gutter and preyed upon by thugs.
He’s the lonely and lost, looking for a companion or friends
With a hunger for ‘the world’ and an emptiness that never ends.
Our brother is the thirsty woman so full of stress and strife
Searching for alcohol: someone to call: aching for the ‘fountain of life.’
Our brother is our sister trying to fill her emptiness with things
He the crap shooter..the lotto man, grabbing at brass rings.
He’s the wife and child abuser, who said they made him do it
He’s the abused wife and child, who believe they drove him to it.
Our brother is the child called ‘orphan’ who has neither father not mother
But is never alone..our heavenly Father sticketh closer than a brother.
Our brother is the mother whose child’s just been found dead
He’s the children whose father’s left them and their mother with neither money nor bread.
Our brother is our sister, our father and our mother
She is black/white/red/brown and yellow.
Yes, you too are our brother.
Trudy Sterling Milliner
Pleae join us for prayer daily, from 6-6:30am (EST). Call 218 862-1416 (8771# code)
Visit my website @ www.Toni-BrookeBrown.com
Twitter@ Revtonibrown Facebook @ Pastor Toni-Brooke Brown Instagram @ PastorToniBrown