My life is in your hands;
My hope is “graciously” marred.
I live on honest Danes.
Merits is all I know
“Practise makes perfect”, I say!
But none too dared to show.
My pearls, I preach in spotless day,
The screams I hear in abundant mane
For all I care, the heathens pray.
The summers’ frame of earth less prey,
“I hear I hear the messengers’ plea!”
Of precious life a deed to spare
“My life is in your hands”, I say!
My hopes are hopeless, marred and bare
I hear, I hear no plea announced
Of what my life should be or should not be
I trail in blame, a thought to bear
My pray, a prayer of heart-felt snag,
My life! My life is in your hands.
© April 2015 by Bessielah David