color drawing of a large crowd of people
Max Pixel

Looking for faces as the winds whistle,  

calling us into dark places and the rains 

that make you wonder if they  

have taken cover,  

relief from the thought the weatherman’s  

forecast predicts higher temperatures 

in the Village of the Poor. 

If only every home–a home for homeless– 

had a fireplace to warm the spirits of men 

along with the feet and hands. 


The night follows the day 

and we pray this winter’s cold 

will bring back the smiles of those 

faces of springtime again.  

And how do you ask the question 

when one’s face already tells the tale, 

faces to have an attitude of commitment 

to end inequality among men? 


Today is the day we look for faces 

and we ask the question of the Poor 

when they only need  

a home and  

an honest day’s work 

and a place to put one’s things 

that have no thoughts. 

I thought when I looked at her face 

I saw the pride of her years.  

I heard the soft words she spoke. 


For why, 

in the twilight  

of her years, 





a home? 


The face of that old guy  

who frowns  

but is quick to greet you 

with a toothless smile 

and a laugh  

that says 

I’m still alive! 


Oh! When I think about the faces 

of mothers with children  

sleeping in cars  

with no gas for heat 

and how they hold each other 

tightly to warm their  

hearts along with 

their hands and feet. 


The faces of the homeless youths, 

the thought of what aging  

out of parental care 

has brought you to, 

a city unaffordable to you  

even with the work you do. 


Looking for faces with sad eyes 

to ask a question: 

Have you known 

homelessness, too? 


The faces of the unhoused, 

looking for faces  

to ask the question: 

Did the Lord help you, too?