Dry summer
long hot daunting days
We are down to our socks
Our tears don't make it to our cheeks
For the sun dries them up
Make our way to the tiny town of waikanae
Our shoes have busted and no longer lace
We continue along the chalky stones in socks
Sunstroked and hopeless
Roadworkers chortle
Point and riff raff rattle
Their junk food faces judge
As we pass emaciated
What charity will have us
What side of God shall will pray to?
As we come to the sanctuary
Muted by Exhaustion
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