God’s Children
Hands that have plunged into rubbish for food
Greet us as though we have come to rescue
But in time this gesture proves misconstrued
The faith they hold has the force to renew.
Brown skin rests against white in a scorched land
Youth emerges from their eyes as we play
In parched fields where baffled buffalo stand
Where there is hope to trust , to laugh, to pray.
Memories flood, the power to distance
Those children will not forget what they saw
But in their joy they have built resistance
In His eyes they hold not one single flaw.
She was born in death in a concrete tomb
But God held her and allowed her to bloom.
No comments:
Post a Comment