An Old Man

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