The Helper's Hand Poem by Martins Akhoeneto

O' my mighty father
Maker of morning rain
How I uphold you
Your name, sure the same
Every coming season past
O' bestowal of thought
Force, my strong propeller
That keeps me still
On life's busy track
Oiling my interior beneath
With his constant precious blood
Beyond what I could afford
I see it so bizarre
Because I don't worth this
Just as the morning rain
You embarrassed me unendingly
With your priceless showers.
Endless downpour of blessing.