Beggars at the gate take their chances.
And decide, whether it means food or death, they’ll surrender.
They’re going to die anyway in the midst of siege and growing scarcity.
So they head to the enemy’s camp.

Beggars at the gate take their chances.
And decide, whether it means food or death, they’ll surrender.
They’re going to die anyway in the midst of siege and growing scarcity.
So they head to the enemy’s camp.

Restlessness rumbling. Grumbling.
Surfacing from somewhere. Deep.
An itch to move stirs my search for other settings.
Wondering if and when we’ll leave this place for another.

Out loud and on the page.
Meditating on God’s Word looks like a little of both.
Voicing the verse.
Writing it by hand.
Sound and touch.
Hearing. Seeing.
