I am looking through the window of a bus
fascinated by the slow and steady rush
of people on the street
as they pray and cook and eat.
I see a family on a motorbike
protesters on their way to the strike,
and a monk collecting food,
they’re all part of this neighbourhood.
We’re so different and we’re all the same.
Sometimes I wish that life was just a game
but I know it’s not
and every life is worth a lot.
For “God so loved the world that He gave his only Son”
and yet I woke up in the middle of Romans one
because they do not even know it,
Instead they’re trying to ‘make merit’.
If they only knew that the price was already paid
and all they need is faith;
to have so much more to live for…
I am passing through the gates of the MRT
wondering if the person behind me is a he or a she
sometimes it’s hard to tell
they play their part so well.
All dressed up and nowhere to go
or if they do – maybe I don’t want to know.
I’ve seen too much and not enough,
I’ve heard the silent cry. I’ve felt the lack of love.
I wish I could look them all in the face
and tell them about grace.
Knowing there is no confusion of identity
if all that matters is ‘Christ in me’.
I am on a train to a place I’ve never been.
The sky is blue, the grass is green
and the tracks are leading the way,
it’s a beautiful day.
My thoughts get lost in translation
as I dream dreams on behalf of this nation
that the King of Kings will one day reign
and not a single statue will remain.