Silk City PIT 2: The Exhortation (WIP)

counting the homeless one lost soul at a time

For James Weldon Johnson

the clock fast approaching

an appointed midnight click

it was time to punch in 

for my avocational shift

we sauntered up creaky steps

of the old weathered rectory

its planks lose, its bricks chipped,

the gabled roof still leaking

a CDC on the outer verge

leaning over a bankrupt precipice 

catastrophic failure predicted

from chronic cash flow distresses

we’ve  been on the ropes

since doors swung open

to fulfill a sacred mission, 

25 year’s in the hood

keepin the devil in remission

a young ED with firebrand cred

emerged from a cubicle partition

his erudition and abundant zeal

would save many from perdition

he commenced his brief

in the entrance hall

laid out maps of the Silk City

articulating a canvasse plan 

bereft of fear and blithe pity

he stood erect announcing

the surety of his calling

handsome face and balding spire

lent a stern presence of authority

The PIT is a Point In Time

Homeless Census annual review, 

to root out and count the heads of

the lost and out of view

from Bed Stuy to Boston

Baltimore and DC

San Antone, Windy City

Frisco vols all countin to see

what happening with 

America’s homeless folks

who, what and how they got there;

what can we do to help them

besides a hot, a cot and a prayer

last week in January  

in cities all over the nation

missioners fan out  to uncover

the most lowly of station

we’ll discover and recover

lost lambs and prodigal sons

we’ll find street walk daughters

falling through cracks

and criminals on the run

some junkies and crack

pied pipers be yodelling

sickness, death and fear

mental illness and 

castaway children may

bring some sorrowful tears

like gnats strained 

through the gaping 

holes in our failing

social safety nets

this night is about

good shepherds

going forth with no regrets

this mission

is most important

to our agency as well

each head you count

every calf you cull

the coffers of the

agency will grow

our program grants are tied 

to an index of misery

our streets give ample evidence 

of its abundant presence in this city

no poverty pimps

work harder to improve 

the blighted human condition 

the quality of our work

speaks for itself

its no liberal sedition

we got a dog in the fight 

that's undoubtedly true

tending to add an urgency

to the critical work we do

our shelter, food pantry

and job training programs

keep jumpers off the ledge

we attempt to arrest fallers

its the agency’s solemn pledge

for what profit a man

if he inherits the earth

and finds only strife 

and devastation?;

community development 

our diligent charge 

workin hard to build 

a better nation

so as your

caravansaries

cross the city’s

food deserts 

to search the oases

of surreal revelations

in supermercados

sure to manifest

a few midnight bizarros

E 18th St bonito bodegas

where long shot scratch offs

and stale coconut macaroons 

staples of community sustainability

and a lift from poverty soon 

parsing the three squares

bagged in brown balsa

a teriyaki slim jim,

cool ranch dorito

frothy quart of Colt 

to chase a winkin sip 

of dog hair gin

that's where this 

census begins...

yes beloved 

the road is wide

the gate is narrow

for the many prodigals

off the path living

a life of shadows

they're out there

trudging 

making a way

through the  gloom

hoping to be given

one more day

sojourning on

trying to get back

to the bosom of love

searching for the room

lit with light from above 

take courage beloved

know that Jesus walks

the streets with you tonight

he’ll be your

present helper

as you mine 

the dank waste

of the desolate 

factory shells

the post industrial

monuments to the 

expended labor of 

six dead generations

now squatter 

encampments

for urban nomads

moving through

the sarcophagi of 

a nations

wasted labor

remember 

afterall, we are

all fallen people

hurtling downward

into torn safety nets 

slipping into the 

tattered threads of 

a handy hangman's 

noose 

who among us

has not fallen

through yesterdays 

best expired dream? 

waking to find yourself

in a midnight

nightmare scream

we'll catch them

round em up

as their falling

to build em up

lost sheep knows the

voice of the masters calling

Jesus will

walk before you

as you enter the

closed parks

were swings 

of life fly

high and low

merry go rounds

zip by like a terrible

carousel that won’t stop

to let you go

and may the

Good Deliverer

guard you as

you descend

into the screaming

rooms of 

condemned

crack dens

here the fallen

angel finds comfort

in the resounding

chorus of misery 

woefully regretted

Lucifer eloquently

hums beguiling

holy smoke words

to his doleful

acolytes sadly

lamenting

you are the

Good Shepherds

leading the lost

back through

the gate

tell the beloved prodigal 

children that the good

news of salvation

patiently awaits

we lucked out

its warm tonight

for the past few years

its snowed

heres a clipboard

of questions to ask

a box of supplies for lost sheep

and a yellow plastic poncho

so the cops know 

you're one of God's own

Mary Lou Williams

Black Christ of the Andes

Praise the Lord

Paterson

1/30/13

jbm