Lying on the street undisturbed,
Cradled in a ripped banner,
Lifeless and alone,
The Sleeping Child.
God bless this Child,
Your son who you have not abandoned,
Protect him in his innocence,
God of Love.
There I passed him, lying on the side of the street, alone and sleeping. There he was, wrapped in a ripped piece of a banner found as trash on the street. As I walked towards him he stirred but did not wake up, men and women walked by not batting an eye. As I walked past him I looked into his face, his eyes closed in serene silence, a world away from the loud, busy street on which he was asleep. I looked into the face of an innocent child, a child left alone to fend his way on the streets of Dhaka. A boy with a story, a story I will never know, and one that would likely melt the hardest hearts. I stood there, a few steps away from this sleeping boy, and I prayed for him. My prayer did not include words, for words were unnecessary, this child didn't need my words, this child needed love.
What to do? I wanted to sit with the child, to let him know that he is loved. But sleep is precious, and I did not want to disturb him. So I waited, I prayed and without any thought of what might happen, I slipped a gift into the child's pocket. I pray that God's gift brightened this boy's day, I hope that he could eat a proper meal and gain some energy, and most of all I pray that he felt loved; loved not by me, for my love is temporary, but loved by God.
We pray tonight for the sleeping children,
We pray tonight for the lonely children,
We pray tonight for the hurting children,
We pray tonight God, for all your children.