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| Ukraine, summer 1993, on a mission trip |
Red Raspberries in
Ukraine
We
walk the streets of Borispol and Kiev in 1993,
climb
dingy high-rise apartments, find no hot
water
or toilet seats—search empty shelves
in
grocery stores for soap
to
wash dishes, clothes, and floors.
We
seek respite from roaches
for
our mission team, American teens
eager
to share the good news of the Gospel
with
those who lost their land and means
to
the Communist Manifesto.
We
sense the cost of collectivism,
vacant
streets a camouflage
to
dens where Ukrainian
and
Russian mafia plot to rape
the
country’s remaining riches.
We
sing to Ukraine’s children,
hear
men speak of decapitating and toppling
Lenin’s
statue, and wonder what took
them
so long, marvel at their endurance
to
suffer bondage and starvation.
The team of teens (four leaders in front row), cooks on the left
We
befriend a band of women,
cooks
who serve us bowls
of
Cream of Wheat with red raspberries
fifteen
mornings
on
white tablecloths.
I
pray their smiles, sons and daughters, thrive,
wish
to compensate their kindness, seat
them
around my family table, place bowls
of
Cream of Wheat with red raspberries before
them,
share our will to work with those who will.
