Easter Morning

[wr_heading el_title=”heading” tag=”h1″ text_align=”inherit” heading_margin_top=”5″ heading_margin_bottom=”5″ font=”inherit” enable_underline=”yes” border_bottom_style=”solid” appearing_animation=”0″ disabled_el=”no” ]Easter Morning[/wr_heading]

Screen Shot 2016-03-28 at 10.58.02 AMBy Catriona Kerwin

The only barrier between him and the sky
is the bridge
under which he sleeps.
He can sense
the dark storm clouds
above him.

Yet he knows that at 6:38
the sun will rise
despite the hopeless scrawls that cover the bridge
despite the needle marks that scar his arms
despite the sharp chill that penetrates his sleeping bag
because it is Easter Sunday.

6:38—kneeling on the ground his arms outstretched
his shadow forms a cross.

Catriona is a first year missionary from Lakewood, Colorado who was studying English before she came to Christ in the City.

Only In Heaven

Only in Heaven

By Michael P. McCrory

In windswept Denver – all who pass
Seek shelter from the stormy blast
While in an alley – out of sight
A homeless man will spend the night

In lying there he suffers on
In mind and heart and will
And prays,somehow that things may change
And justice have it’s fill

He knows deep down- this is so wrong
That he should live this way
Without a home, a friend or hope
To see him through each day

The future for such lonely ones
Must seem so bleak and empty
Denied the bare necessities
In our land of plenty

But hark, there’s hope — good souls who wish
To show a little pity
They’re young and full of love and joy
They are Christ in the city

Their simple task to be a friend
To everyone they meet
In pairs of two you’ll see them
In downtown Denver streets

They’re there each day to chat with them
To prove they really care
To listen to their stories
And maybe say a prayer

It may not sound so very much
But it means a lot to them
To have such lovely people
Treat them like a friend


But the ones who ‘pay the piper’
– The engine in the train –
Are all the generous donors
Who time and time again

Support these brave young people
With the backing that they need
Without such rich investment
They never could succeed

And for their generosity
The return is great we’re told

“ For every single cent ” God says
“ I’ll repay one hundred fold
Yes! all you do for others
Out of love for me
Will then go on
Through all eternity
For everything you’ve ever had
You owe it all to me
So I can never be outdone
In generosity
And now
You are
Not only
my friend
You and I are One
Only in Heaven
Will you know
The good that you have done. “

Michael Patrick McCrory is from Belfast, Northern Ireland. He currently lives in Newport Beach, CA, with his wife of 48 years. He wrote this poem after visiting Christ in the City. This poem is his thank you to the missionaries and their donors for loving the poor as they do.

Sunshine Blossom

[one_full last=”yes” spacing=”yes” center_content=”no” hide_on_mobile=”no” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” background_position=”left top” hover_type=”none” link=”” border_position=”all” border_size=”0px” border_color=”” border_style=”” padding=”” margin_top=”” margin_bottom=”” animation_type=”” animation_direction=”” animation_speed=”0.1″ animation_offset=”” class=”” id=””][fusion_text]

Sunshine Blossom
By Ron Button

As the wind would blow, shifting flowers in the breeze.
The pollen of one circles thru the air, like the waves of the seas.
Quickly it floated, exploring each open gate.
Always anticipating, making the choices, till it found the right mate.
As the particle of life embedded itself firmly.
It left a promise, a great commitment, of a being well worthy.
The restless seed shuffling, wanting to be more.
The breeze lifted it, planted it in God’s bed, now a reason to live for.
The roots and reason, although fragile and weak.
Pushing deeper, growing stronger, till the sprout reached the peak.
While resting and gazing, the sprout saw it’s first light.
With wonder, filling with nourishment, till it saw it’s first night.
With each passing day, sprout turned to stem.
Virgin petals, innocent figure, beauty would soon set in.
Growing ever so rapidly, reaching for the light.
As spring left, summer came, a bud sprung upward in delight.
Stretching little by little, petals of red and yellow.
First outward, then inward, like the motion of a bellows.
Quietly it motioned, in splendor it felt.
Places to go, things to see, much to be felt.
For the first time, confused with inspiration.
A bed of roses, a field of carnations, the thought of creation.
The thankful ones, the harmful masks.
In matter, the causes, to deal with the task.
Confection is the purpose, maturity, the battle.
To live, to grasp, God and Satan rock the cradle.
With love and hate, she learns in awesome.
To appreciate, to comfort, to be…
Sunshine Blossom.

Ron Button is a poet and friend from the street.[/fusion_text][/one_full][imageframe lightbox=”no” lightbox_image=”” style_type=”none” hover_type=”none” bordercolor=”” bordersize=”0px” borderradius=”0″ stylecolor=”” align=”none” link=”” linktarget=”_self” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”” animation_speed=”0.1″ animation_offset=”” hide_on_mobile=”no” class=”” id=””] [/imageframe]