|
|
 |
 Scarce Rain Mother from one tribe Father another Lucky for me a Spirit walker between three kingdoms with the benefits of none On the open road deafening hot sun Sandstorm forbidden zone leg trapped fallen stones no water, seemed at the end where bandits were known Happened my friend, Mohammed Schwartz. Dropping bundles in place He offered precious water With a smile hiding pain from belief with no border past melted ancient hatreds Honored scriptures could trace through sparse desert rain saw no resentment face Like many times the same not for kingdom or place but a brother's concern Spirit light to dark place. After his long struggles city Cathedral I pray And feeling better this time I remember the way Spirit steady but scarce rain I would see in a glance Desert dust wind orange, morning prayer sunlight dance and thoughts for another God giving day And a gift from a stranger I can never repay. /b/Epicenter/b/ Miles away from the epicenter Peace stands Abandoned save for a handful Of faithful believers. Over time the feeling grows They try to conceal The way they feel. Then the subject comes up Before the surprise ending. Someone leading the way Who is that? She was my next door neighbor Everything changes and even Grows. Miles away from the epicenter, Becomes over time the new epicenter Or the mountain moves With the faith. |
|
|
