Street Pastors

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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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Preview:

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See this poem in print alongside others, in Prayer and Triviality, available now on Amazon.

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