The poem was written by a colleague who ministered at Ground Zero

Cold Comes to Ground Zero
The dread cold wind blows
Through high walled fjords without water
Blustering, boldness tearing at heads

Ripping the blue tent with its yellow fringe and
Salvation Army shield
Give a cup of hot chocolate
In the Name of Him who was on every lip

Yet sorrow kept the heads low and spirits torn
Red coats and white hats
Masks covering faces but showing naked needs
EMTs wait with sleek mobile units

But eyes of angst
At 1800 degrees
No one will need the soft, clean ride to an emergency room
Why am I here? What can I do?

Comfort ye my people!
Comfort ye my people!

This command is for the living not the dead
Who are already in the bosom of Abraham
Marching orders for those who can hear

The people in the Gulf States need more than money and food. They need love, care, spiritual support and HOPE!