Third Friday in Lent

“Now the famine was severe in the land.” Genesis 43:1

it is not just an old story
pulled from a dusty book,
it is about our days as well.
in the stale air of our moments,
silos of compassion stand half-empty.
buckets clang against the dry bottom
of the wells of patience.
even justice is parceled out—
a cup for those who agree with us,
a bucket for those who idolize us,
a drib, a drab for those who do not.
peace sleeps in shadowed doorways
after knocking on fears who have set alarms.
hope is at the back of the line,
joining the weary who wonder
if anyone remembers that there
is enough mercy for all.
yet, like wheat sheltering under dust,
the promise of God quietly stirs—
if we begin to turn toward others again,
if we carry share from just
a small bag of compassion,
our famines will not have
the final word in our times.
grace is waiting to produce
a bumper crop for the world.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman