The sun had bid goodnight in blazing flame
At vespers the church bells called healthy and lame
To walk back home an old man was intent
His back was laden and his shoulders bent
His bones bemoaned the ascent of an incline
A stick in hand, aching he did not whine
A whispering sigh was his unique lament
As steep stairs he scaled, his back still bent
At the front of the church he stood erect
He dropped the stick sighing he nearly wept
Sitting on a bench made of cement
Turning to God, this supplication sent,
“In your abundant love for humankind
Heaven and earth you made, all one can find,
To help us all your grace sent from the sky
Though grateful I must express my cry
The sun beats on my back when stooped I toil
Pushing the hoe so deep into the soil
I see the stars when I return at night
For me their beauty is lost, they are only light
My mate is pain which tortures flesh and bone
Constant companion, I am never left alone
Your love for me would be more manifest
By granting me the time to have a rest”
He resumed his walk at a slow pace
Leaning on the stick, sadness in his face
He hoped that the sun would shine again
To lift his spirit and relieve his pain