For
Every Child Who Cries at Night
Nick
Howington,
2008
For every
child who cries at night
Alone
with shame and pain and fright
For
every child who wants so much
To
only feel a gentle touch
For
the beaten child, who cries in pain
Whose
tears run silent, like the rain
For
the child used to satisfy lust
Who
never learns to love or trust
For
the child taken from her home
And
made to feel so all alone
For
the child whose home is just a shell
Where
life becomes a living hell
For
the child who smiles but cannot feel
Because
of scars too deep to heal
For
every child who yearns for love
I
hope and pray to God above
To
hear your cries and heal you pain
And
give you back your life again.
Do Not Judge Others
Telmo Dantes,
2007
I was 12 years old
and surrounded with plain oak painted brown; why it
was one of the scariest moments of my life, I still
do not know. It was a sixth grade final project, to
witness a case in court and report it in class.
As
soon as the first
defendant stepped up and the prosecutor announced his offense, the
judge became furious at the defendant, yelling at the top of his voice,
“What do you have to say this time?” Now, it was this man’s third time committing the same
offense of stealing a bicycle. The
man looked down for little while and when he lifted up his head he
replied, “Show me mercy.”
The judge screamed even louder
“Give me one reason,
give me one reason why I
should show you mercy?!” Looking
down again longer this time, he took a deep breath and exclaimed, “If
there was a reason, then it wouldn’t be mercy.”
It
went absolutely dead silent in the courtroom at that moment, and the
judge, after being speechless for a while, simply said, “Get out of my
face and don’t let anything bring you back to this court.”
I
later found out that the man was only taking those bikes because they
had baskets and were perfect for taking home his monthly charity
grocery, that no one would help carry for him. It was also reported
that he had returned every one of the bikes right after each use. He
was homeless and was living in an abandoned house.
The
moral of this story is, judge not and you shall not be judged.
Poverty
Jeremy
Wagner,
2007
Why is my
life so
hard...so
much that I feel hopeless?
Why do I starve at night...to feed my children?
Why does my mind wonder for company...because I am lonely?
Why don't I have any money...because people judge me?
Why can't I get healthcare when I need it...becaues many don't want to
treat me?
Why do people judge me when I am down...but they will not help?
I cry for forgiveness and mercy...but no one shows any will to help.
I will fall asleep in my car...when you are in your warm cozy bed.
My home is in the woods, car, or under a bridge...your home has an
address.
Reflection
Journal - excerpt
Chris
Hanney,
2007
I have learned a great
deal during
this project. I have learned what kind of person I was, and what kind
of person I have become because of this project...As for the service
project itself, I first looked upon it as a burden. However, after what
I learned and experienced, I have come to realize that it is not a
burden; it is a gift, a gift that helps shape us as individuals to be a
part of a larger, more functional whole, into a true society.
Reflection Journal - excerpt
Chris-Ann
Campbell,
2006
Through this project I
have
grown to appreciate the civic arts and service more. I realize that the
civic arts helps us to understand our interconnectedness and that
through service we are building our character and growing added to the
fact that we are helping others. It also helps us to be aware of the
differences in our culture and that of those around us while still
being mindful and respectful of the cultures of others. It is only
through this understanding that we can effetively work together and
build community. Through the civic arts, we can truly provide service
to others and we become aware of the shortfalls of government or the
larger society. It is through the civic arts that we are empowered to
make a difference.
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