I can see at a distance; heartaches, city ruins, 
devastations of good times once had. But yet, 
I choose to gaze into the distant future,
where I envision busy sidewalks, renovated buildings, 
smiling faces, instead.

As I look into the barren streets, 
where now instead the stagnate waters flow, 
I hear the moaning cries of people hurting so. 
But yet, I choose to think about the day when 
rescue comes my way, mending hurts,
reuniting families again some day.

As I see the helping hands of Angels mend,
 the hurting hearts of those who've lost family and friends. 
But yet, I can't help wonder why, our
Almighty Father allows his children to suffer and die.
 But then, I look into the past of years gone by, 
seeing how God, our Heavenly Father,
allowed his very own son to die.

So God grant me the faith to better understand, 
that my heartaches are a part of your great plan. 
Help me be thankful of angels sent, to aid me
in my time of need, and not resent them. 
Help me not blame others for my pain, but rather, 
give me the courage to accept what I can't change.

Do not allow evil to devour me from within, 
leaving my doubting, weary soul darkened to sin.
For Satan preys on the weakened soul, as it
wallows in self pity and grows cold. 
So God, grant me the strength I need to carry on,
 and the faith I need to mend, so that I can take up my
cross and follow you. In God's name I ask........


Author: Agatha Weeks

I wrote this poem in honor of my niece, Sara Beth Peters, 
who chose to stay in New Orleans, La., after the storm 
Katrina, in order to help others who were less fortunate 
than herself. May God bless her, along with all the others 
victims, and their families.

The graphics used above are from photos by Dorthea Lange titled "Migrant Mother".