Upon my lot the Devil spat…
The spring comes upon all without bright and merry
While within me sleets the autumn tears dull and weary.
Day after day, I toil and sweat for a promising end
But the sisters of Fate knit and snip off the budding trend.
Life, they say, is a medley of ups and downs
But I ever seem to slip down the rungs to letdown
The ministers preach, “Try and try again
And in time, the heavens will bestow upon you your gain.”
They speak not of how broken your spirit gets
When step after step leads not to success but more regrets;
They tell not of the tears that come fast and painful,
When in your face the doors are slammed hard and hurtful;
They won’t warn of how your being gets awash with shame
When every look and word from others puts you to blame!
I look up beyond the hills, up to the Heaven
From whence comes my help, my haven?
The Holy Book says it comes from He, above all else,
The Mighty One before whom abides throngs of angels.
So believing His sovereignty and my faith steadfast,
I pray for a second time… Again, let the die to be cast!
Oh heavenly host, shine upon my destiny
And temper fortune upon my woebegone story!
I do not ask for a fate filled with all goodness and light
I just beseech You, oh Lord, to look kindly upon my plight!
Let me be, of this affliction upon me, free!
Bless me, I ask Thee… Bless me!
Written by: Shakespearean Walter
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.