A poem from a man who feels like the only way to help is to pray for Sydney
He waits alone, not knowing what the day will bring. Not knowing himself if he’ll sink or sing.
He reads each line and every part. A dimly lit platform matched by his heart.
Sirens sit silently, the commotion is over. Luck means less than a four leaf clover.
A cafe visitor cum hostage is such a short space. With full media coverage it’s right in our face.
His train is delayed but it’ll come and he’ll board. Meanwhile he’ll pray for Sydney beginning with Dear Lord.
Reach out to someone if you’re hurting or reach put to someone else if you think they’re hurting. Yesterday’s hostage situation didn’t highlight the need to debate religion but it did show the dire need for community. Be strong Sydney