Broken. Not Destroyed.

Trash littering the sides of the street

Barking, skinny dogs begging for food

Street food, vendors, drifters along the crooked sidewalk

Dusty hearts. Dusty feet.

A tattered blue tarp for a door.

A dirt floor swept clean; a pile to the side.

Pieces of tin and fabric as walls

Can’t hide. Can’t move from here.

Memories of a life filled with promise


It’s too late, its too late.

Dreams so close you can feel them; taste them.

So far gone now. So far gone.

Helpless people, helpless place.

Someone save them. Please come help them.

Who am I to do these things? Haiti, I am just the same as you.

Beaten. Broken down. Filled with sadness. Corrupt. Wounded. Tired.

The trash can only litter so many things. The dogs cannot hide all sounds. The sorrow must end.

The mountains overhead echo a different song.

Don’t run anymore. Don’t seek out what you cannot gain. 

Trust. Hope. I am here. 

I will not leave you broken. You will not remain in your sadness. Your wounds will be bound with my Love. I will give you rest. I will teach you in the way you should go. Oh, Haiti…Oh, Stephanie and Ryan…let me be Your God. Image

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