I look up on top and wonder,
What is required of me and you,
You look up and ask me a question
What do you want to know right now?
I answer the same, the good up on top
What is it about?
I do know it is about us getting out,
We need, we cry for it, we walk and search
For what is required up on top.
My mother told me of saints,
She prayed to big people with grey hair,
I thought it was because it was hers,
To wonder into the night praying,
Oh how she wept and sniffed as she prayed!
How I listened and counted words as she did,
What is wanted up top?
I ask now as I did then?
What are the words we heard about?
now that they haunt me so,
For I long to know right now,
If I am doing what was, is, and will,
Be wanted up top.
I pray I make the cut,
Just a little bit of it,
Just a little good up top.
To crown my head with a crown
of existence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem