The Desperation of the Faithful

When will You come through?
And do that which You said You'd do?
For thousands of years
We've been waiting for You--
And I'm weary of waiting.

There are flowers blooming
Out of concrete boxes.
And no one's welcome
In their neighbors' houses.
I thought by now
We'd have stopped waving crosses.
No one knows who You are.

What more do You expect us to do?
Some get along fine without You.
But those who seek are lied to.
And I'm tired of watching them die.

You scolded us for worrying
About what we would eat.
But they haven't seen
More than bread in a week.
Her baby died
Because there was no water to drink.
When will You come through?

~Anne-Marie written around 6 pm on 9/5/07 sitting outside of
Revolutions Coffee in Greenlake