A Bologne Sandwich, Just Bread and Meat

 I recently wrote a poem, inspired by a church group in Uvalde who took hundreds of bologna sandwiches to distribute among the Haitian immigrants under the bridge in Del Rio. Because of the huge number of people descending upon the border essentially at one time, these immigrants were taken by plane to processing centers or other locations as deemed appropriate. However, as we waited and watched to see what would happen to them, I think we were all touched by the many images of fourteen thousand people crowded under the International Bridge, unable to go into Del Rio to get food for their families and not knowing how long they would have to wait there. I do not pretend to understand any of the political issues that were raised by the presence of all these people at our southern border, but I do know that they had suffered much and were lonely and afraid. I hope my poem will be meaningful to you and will be an encouragement to always extend kindness to those among us who are less fortunate than we. 

       You'll find my poem in the space below this letter.

       I'd love to hear your response to my poem. You may email me to let me know what you thought. I love hearing from you. 

      Until then...

                                        Grace and peace to you,

                                         Holli Fry

A Bologna Sandwich, Just Bread and Meat

Holli Fry

“Who are all these people?” asked the child from the North,

As he watched the growing multitude of humans bursting forth.

Their numbers swelled each moment as from the South they came.

Baptized in the river, a new life they sought to claim.

“They’ve come from far away,” replied his mother with a sigh.

“They left their homes and jobs. To that I cannot answer why.

But what I know is they are here, and we cannot ignore

That they are hungry, lost, afraid, like fish cast on the shore.”

“I’ll give them my lunch!” exclaimed the child, raising the bag in his hand.

“But what is that among so many? They’re a growing band,”

Replied his mom, but before she could stop him, he had already gone

And sought out a child about his age whose face was tired and wan.

Handing the bag across the fence, he quickly returned to his mother

And instantly felt that in doing this act, he had gained a brother.

A bottle of water, an orange so sweet,

A bologna sandwich, just bread and meat,

A word spoken kindly in a language unknown.

The love of Jesus, in this, had been shown.

I pray that when the airplanes come to take all the people away,

Their hearts will not be bitter because of their very brief stay,

But that they will recall the few acts of love that someone cared to extend.

Perhaps they will even remember a face and feel they’ve gained a friend.

May our actions always follow the love that within us lies

As we seek to know and do the will of the one who came and died

In a foreign land, alone and afraid, so that all who know him may live.

And may we remember he gave his life, so how hard is it to give:

A bottle of water, an orange so sweet,

A bologna sandwich, just bread and meat,

A word spoken kindly in a language unknown.

The love of Jesus, in this, may be shown.