The Rivulet Of Hope Poem by Job Laz

From heaven’s spring board
I find rest for my groaning,
From His temple
I sought peace for my racing heart,
For the train of His glory
I seek grace to uphold my wrecked hope,
In the court of righteousness
I spread my praise,
Behind the curtain of redemption
I knit my plea,
My cry of liberation from the clutches of my pride,
And the embers of death,

Gently I trek
The way to meet the march gone before,
Minds who speak not their own
But the depth of His wishes,
Yet never astonished by the lashes raining hard upon their spine,
Pieces of their will, they left back
Amidst the fallow grounds
From where buried is my umbilical cord,
The genesis of my existence,

Like fume of oil
Their torn bodies filled my lungs,
Hardly can I breathe,
As my bowed knees lay meek on the gravel fields,
In the lay bys of my cause
Strapped is the spring of guilt
Which often reborn my allegiance
My guts to walk that road
Where many others met their end.