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