A mysterious wind is blowing arround me
A soothing fearful voice of an unknown sound is close
I can feel the past in my present
And accepting a beautiful future is no more my Hope.
Some days and times and seasons are shocking
Some evenings bring burden on a night bed
Full of fear of meeting another day
When solutions of the day are challenges of tomorrow
Who will read my words and make meanings of them?
Who will look at my face and notice a change in mood?
Who will judge me fairly even when I’m wrong?
Who will be humane to lessen my yoke tomorrow?
Yet, l lie on my mat with a lamp at my wooden door
Trusting tomorrow like a voyager at night.
When l do not at last breath,
Then He wants me alive to face the next with HOPE .
Source: Fr. Franklin. W.
The Village Poet
