Let all

With all the hardwork
stress and pain
The country smells of earth
Sundry delight in the morsel
Some a mini shelter of mud
Yet a home and great joy derived
It recalls “let all that hath breath praise the Lord”
To the African, no meal but life is a gift
And this is a huge addition to my praise
Here, I develop each moment my eye gazes
As a moment of thanksgiving and praise
For all that i have and all yet to have, I worship.

This poem was written under hot conditions with not very favourable internet… a handheld fan in hand, i stop to refresh with a bottle of cold water. It is certainly worth it.


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