Friday, October 22, 2010

Draught

on the red earth
of Africa,
thin soil
wrought
with draught,
yearns
for God’s tears.

its little children,
mothered
by hunger,
fatherless,
long for
God's short arms
to wrap them
in love;

they reach
ashen faces
into the sky
waiting for
invisible hands
to wipe
dry sobs
off their breath.

Helena Malheur 2004

3 comments:

  1. I enjoyed very much the etherial quality to your poem. Thank you for sharing with us

    ReplyDelete
  2. thank you so much for stopping by and leaving a comment! :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. I have seen such sadness and I have seen it quelled

    this is an offering of hope

    thank you

    ReplyDelete

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