WHEN YOU FEEL DRY; CALL ON HIM

As I drag my feet along
On the rugged path
And prayers seem
But filled with emptiness

The picture of his face
In my wallet
help create a little light
But can’t fire the wood for now

I lie face down
On the road of the pilgrimage
With sands filling my face
Creamed with dungs of Cow

I weep silently
For help as
The sun shines dimly
On my face

But the young child staring
In the corner
From nowhere
With broad smile soaked on his face
Whispered my name
And it struck my pieces heart

Gently he holds me up
By the hand
And gave me a soft hug
Saying the gentle words
“Don’t give in yet”

Has the touch of an angel
Little but mighty
Small but
A profound hug

My prayers is answered
In a strange way

As I walk on with
Feeble feet
Not giving up yet
With the encouragement
Of the little child
Until I see the end of the road

Thoughts ramble deep within
As I meditate on
I said to myself
The following beatings

When you feel dry
Be assured that you
Are not alone

There’s a child watching
You at the corner
Willing to give you
A hand to move again

Stay connected in prayer
Even if it seems
It lies in shadows

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About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
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