A
childhood scar
A
childhood scar on my left hand,
like
a testament and lifetime friend,
is
no longer visible
among
the intricate creases of old age.
This
poetry is a lightning bolt,
piercing
the dutiful gray.
I
am a part time stenographer
with
nothing of my own to add.
I
need to be quiet now. Everything
belongs
to Him, is Him.
As
you read these words,
read
the silence between them
and
ask yourself, o child – if God is the Sole Doer,
what is your function
and purpose?
No comments:
Post a Comment