By Andrea Lingle

How do you know

If your tincture brings life 

Or is laced with swagger?

There is one by the road,

Torn by the world

Bleeding, beaten, and broke.

Savior? charlatan?

Showing up to love?

Or to vanity?

It’s simple, you say,

Love the Lord. Love the Loner. 

Just. Do. That. 

What of enabling;

What of white guilt?

What if my motive is me?

Look behind, dear one. 

Attend to your wake.

What has doing done?

Look for the scattered, 

The shattered, and grim.

What has your love done to them?

Do you find healing? 

Do you find hope? 

Or is it all held in a fist?

It is hard to fly

With white knuckled wings.

Notice that Spirit flies loosely.

Love keeps on trying.

Humble checks behind

To see that loving brings life.