by Michael Shoemaker

Father, I am on this curb
with no place to go.
I thought I was strong,
now I know that I’m weak.
I was healthy, 
but now I am sick, cold,
lonely, desperate - so tired.
Father, you provide for 
the birds of the sky
and the fish of the sea,
will you help? Please help.
Somebody comes up 
and gives me a blanket and
directions for a place to stay.
One of countless prayers answered. 

Michael Shoemaker is a poet, writer, and photographer. His writing has appeared in Ancient Paths Literary Journal, the Christian Courier, The Compass Literary Magazine  and elsewhere. He lives in Magna, Utah with his wife, and son where he enjoys looking out on the Great Salt Lake every day. He is looking forward to two of his poems being published in the Poetry Pacific Anthology in 2024.