Struggle

(I wrote this poem from the canvas of the many beloved lives that have stitched themselves into the fabric of our hearts.)

Dust swirls and carries it’s toxic waste,
Sweat mixed with grime, a nasty taste.
The temperature climbs, and hunger gnaws,
Fiercely it grows and buries its steel claws.

Where can one go for work or food?
My family starves while I fight my mood.
Life they call it, what is this pain?
Is there really some noble gain?

I sit and watch the rich passer by,
With outstretched hand and haunting eye.
My pride is stripped by wretched loss,
My land has suffered a terrible cost.

My hut is laden with poverty’s disdain,
My family feels the sting of its reign.
Darkness falls and my drying tears,
Cling to my face while I fight my fears.

Our bodies waste in the burning sun,
The sorrow and grave must be outrun.
Where, oh, where is the hope they preach,
Or the God they tell and widely teach.

Will you empathize with my broken heart?
Will you chance to dare and be a part?
I beg you to show this God to me,
Please...please, extend and His hand be.

My struggle is desperate and insufferably long,
I will do my best, I will stay strong.
Pray for me as you pillow your head,
And lay yourself down on downy bed.

Rescue may come at the break of dawn,
Or it may come, as the night grows long.
Either way, patience will wait
And somewhere in the suffering I will find my gait.

Freedom’s breeze will blow again,
I pray it will grace us, my dear friend,
I will think of you as I often do,
And sleep and trust for a dream come true.