It Is What It Is
They sit in the street
Eyes vacant
And minds numbed.
Their hearts search
and wander
Within unmoving bodies
And their dirty hands
hang limp,
Draped over their
knees.
One picks at a guitar
And rasps out a story
Of rail cars, wet
nights, and lost loves.
His mouth curves down
At our questions
As he pointedly
recounts a history.
Passion bubbles at the
surface
But is quickly
dispelled
Once he realizes what
has been said.
How can someone still
their heart
To merely a faint
whisper?
How can someone hear
The mention of hope
And not crave it?
Comfortable in their
indifference
And the belief that
“it is what it is”.
“Life is a season.
Death is coming.
It is what it is.”
No thought given to
eternity.
Only a slight
consideration given to tomorrow.
God, open their eyes.
Disturb them, o Lord
To dare more boldly
To dare to ask “what
if”
To wonder
To seek
To find.
Move their hearts
So their feet can’t
stay still.
God, save them.
~Lauren~
"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine"
Ephesians 3:20
