Poetry about the Streets

Watcher I

I am a watcher I

Have a place to observe the sky

Watcher I see mighty hand

Lightly touch waiting land

Waiting they who have none

Squinting at equatorial sun

Then to sleep on the street

Where pain and despair meet

Watcher I their daily pain

Dirt pads where they have lain

Time was when I did not see

Those born to misery

Watcher I edging near

Close to see the smallest tear

Observing a divine plan

To make of ragged boy full man

Watcher I take delight

In finding new sight

Days spent not seeing

Are days with no true being

Watcher I see young men giving

Day after day of their living

Sacrificing heavenly seats

For those Made in the Streets

I wrote this poem in September 1996 when we were only serving young men sleeping on the streets, and 9 young Kenyan men were working together with Darlene and me. It is well to gain understanding, to see the lowest of the low, and to take part in the plan of Jesus to dramatically alter their lives and transform their hopes. Boys and girls who sleep on the streets of Nairobi have no reason to think that anyone loves them. It is delight to see them respond so happily to affection and care.