Faith in Real Life

I am the wind in your hair,

The baby abandoned somewhere, 

The out-stretched begging hand,

Refugee from a war-torn land.
I am the new life of spring,

The Devastation flooding brings,

The wind-blown paper bag,
Centre-fold of the porno mag.

I am the rhythm of life
The scream of the battered wife,
Cold rain that soaks your skin
And the unmentionable sin.
The crying of those who mourn,
Waking to a beautiful dawn,
The massive top ten hit,
Street kid asleep in shit.

I am the staggering drunk
And the holy sober monk,
The scent of your lover’s bed,
The feeling of being well fed.
The person dying of AIDS
And those who watch them slowly fade,
The fox being chased as prey
And the lesbian and the gay.

I am the child abused,
The teenager much amused,
Those who live on death row,
The places people fear to go.
The cheated out for revenge,
The laughter and chatter of friends,
The MP who ‘really cares’,
And everyone at Friday prayers.

I AM the burning sunset
And the gambler’s losing bet
The roar of the winning goal,
Desperate worker on the dole.
The slow and patient sunrise,
Love betrayed in people’s eyes,
Those who starve and those who feast,
I AM the greatest and the least.


© David Hardman 2001