Gedigte/Poems

The words of the poor

are knives

that bury themselves in our flesh

and cut,

and hurt,

and draw out

infection.

The cry of the poor

is clear water

that rinses off our makeup;

we can let the mask fall.

The eyes of the poor

are two mirrors,

we need not be afraid

to see ourselves there.

That nearness of the poor

reveals Jesus,

excellent Counselor,

God with us,

Prince of Peace,

Fire that burns away

all chaff

and purifies gold!

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