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.