For Thea

There is beauty on this city street
in the people as they pass by.
Smiles gleam like the dancing sun
in spite of torn ligaments in the heart and soul.
All human life is here in the old and the young.
I can see the Lord smiling as a child in Galilee,
in the beggar's request for funds,
hope rising on this street in Holy Week.
I have seen some great ones fall,
tumble down from the highest perch,
broken like a doll into tiny pieces.
But dreams are alive here,
caught like a salmon in a hook of the heart.
So on this coming Easter Sunday,
a great stone will be upturned for human love.