Servant Child

By Jessica Lake

Striving to do good.

The Saint suffers for others in need.

He endures their hurtful words.

He abides their undeserved animus.

A saint who blesses this shameless world.

His home a hovel shared with loneliness.

Within he tugs out each bloody barb.

And palms it gently in both hands.

It’s priceless glow a treat for his eyes.

A glint that stirs the memory of warmth.

A cruel joke that hungers for injustice.

And never lifts a hand in his defense.