Where you go I will go...it reads.

Take me where you are essentially. lead me to bind the brokenhearted. Grabbing hold of captives, offering a word of life.

Where you go I will go...it reads.

and i marvel at the profound simplicity, a promise coming to pass.

And i steer clear of beggars but run to the prostitutes. Greet the widows in joy but keep my hands in my pockets. And i should have given money to a man yesterday. I looked away. And he was gone.

I keep looking at people-and seeing them as fellow human beings, and its starting to mess me up. A man on a bed. Visits 14 year old prostitutes and all i can think of is how he's some woman's son. that he's had a childhood, pain and fear and history. And now i see him in a fraction of a space in time. In a brothel, on a bed, searching.

A man with turned in legs and trembling hands asks me for money as i buy my lunch. And i look away. Shuffling from one distanced glance to another he continues on. I reach into my purse, too late. He's nowhere. And i wonder at the image of Jesus I refused to serve.

A boy crawling on all fours down the the busy Park Street. 5 Star hotels, sugary coffees, fried chicken available here. And i look away embarassed by the boy whose back refuses to let him walk. And my mind turns to the book i just read about a similar boy and i can't help but wonder at his shame.

Where you go I will go...

When i tattooed this promise. I had no idea the steps to follow.