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Out on the streets again last night
Till 4am, so cold.
Sleep sacrificed to serve the lost;
Ne’er thought themselves too old.
Got vomit on his trousers too
From waiting with someone
Till ambulance or friends arrived
He thinks of this as fun?!
And one bold lady gave her coat
To cover one passed out.
Said he’d been poisoned; friends all gone.
Thankful, without a doubt.
And walking girls to taxis when
They say that they are scared.
Our heroes are remembered long
For being those who cared.
To Dorothy in her late eighties
I asked how does she do it.
She said she never sleeps til four
So may as well pursue it.
The noisy streets, the nightclub scene
With rows and fights galore
And people asking why they’re out there,
Eager to know more.
And every time the stories shared
As people come to talk
Bring God into the godless nights
Wherever they may walk.
Oh, as for me I must confess
I’d let them down, I know it.
See clubs as waste of time and wage
And I’m afraid I’d show it.
I retch at the mere smell of sick;
I’d fail to stay awake.
I’d laugh at girls in tiny skirts
In winter, for Pete’s sake!
But I admire those who go –
So faithful, selfless, kind.
I’ll pray for them from my warm home
And keep them all in mind.
Lord, thank You for their ministry.
O please protect and guide them.
And shine Your light, and spread Your word;
And be there right beside them.
Written March 2018 (by Kat Gibson).
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See this poem in print alongside others, in Prayer and Triviality, available now on Amazon.