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
I enjoyed very much the etherial quality to your poem. Thank you for sharing with us
ReplyDeletethank you so much for stopping by and leaving a comment! :)
ReplyDeleteI have seen such sadness and I have seen it quelled
ReplyDeletethis is an offering of hope
thank you