A Ray Of Hope

A ray of hope abides within the heart,

Like toddlers grasping anchor, as juveniles how they start.

Courage is of high deed, in a horrendously beautiful way,

A ray that shapes the blessings has come this gentle day.

Their hurtful little fingers play with the births of ground,

There’s a listen at their pain and sorrow, a dreadful sad old sound.

Hear them Mercy Giver, oh Him who gives, who takes,

Pamper when they hunger, sap just on their aches.

They conquer through their slippage, firm upon a stance,

Like a lion on a throne, as lowly as the ants.

And the sun, how it basks upon their naked faces,

Teardrops on their nostrils, a sigh of joy replaces.

These streets, those corners of bitter mouths are crowded,

Passers seeking produce, of women who mask their heads.

Their spirits show their anger; their merits convey an aim,

Survival is compulsory, from the doors out which they came.

I utter in a silence, of a painful narrative,

My wishes ever hampered, with a willing heart to give.

But prayers have such meaning, so pamper on their tears oh Jah,

That aches and pains will not exist, hear me good Jehovah.

~Orlando Rowe