their voices

Their voices cry out to me
from dirty streets,
brothels,
reserves,
and garbage dumps.
Their eyes pierce mine
as they hunger for love.
But the sounds around
take my eyes off the hurting
and remind me of
my "needs":
for a well-paying job
and all the toys this world offers.
They are still there, though:
the single mom working all day
to feed her famished kids;
the frail old man
lying in a ditch;
the broken teen selling
herself
to save
her life;
the children sleeping
amongst the filthy refuse
of the rich.
And what can I do?
Can I pull them into my arms,
embracing with the love of Christ?
What, in my young years
and inexperience
have I to offer them?
You call me to live for You,
giving my all,
and this I will,
but won't You show me,
what do I have to offer
this hurting world?