While eating breakfast,
I sat down and prayed.
That this feeling of sadness,
Would please go away!
Each spoonful a chore,
To place in my mouth,
What was I feeling?
What were my tears all about?
A humbling feeling did fill my heart,
One spoonful at a time,
From end and its' start.
Why was it me, that God chose to feed?
When the world is starving,
And in much more of need?
My tears welled up,
And fell to puddle the floor,
As my bowl was now empty,
There wasn't anymore.
Looking inside the bowl in my hands,
Prayed, 'Dear God fill this bowl,
So I might feed it to man.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem