Huddled up in lowly shelters, fending off our deep despair,
Bundled in what rags we’ve gathered, holding fast to constant prayer.
Passersby with words of pity toss us coins with smiles and stares,
Yet, our begging bowls go wanting, once again we’ve no’ to spare.
Still, we find the Season holy, keeping faith against our fear,
God’s promise of a new beginning, words of hope we long to hear.
When winter’s sting is passed from memory we’ll still recall, with grateful souls,
These trying times we’ve spent in bondage and the Christmas child who brings us hope.
Painting: Refugees La Sagrada Familia by Kelly Latimore