Crumbs from Your table

crumbs from your table,
not from your hand,
find what I'm able,
scrounge what I can.

love has shut the door,
doesn't want to be found,
I know you hear me knocking,
waiting there inside,
but I'm desperate enough to stay here,
my need won't be denied.

all the dogs are outside barking,
your ears they hear the call,
mercy can't stay sitting,
grace has to open to all.

you can call me what you will,
ignore me when I cry,
faith will crawl under the table,
steal mercies as they fall.

crumbs from your table,
not from your hand,
find what Im able,
scrounge what I can.

Eric Blauer, pic & poem, 1.17.08
Mark 7:24-30