At the time that my two cars were stolen
an older black gentleman gave me a lift
and day after day for two months
I travelled with him for free
and as far as we were travelling
he told about the greatness of God
and we sometimes talked about the Bible
and he told me about the things
that he was doing in his free time
at prisons and among poor people
and every morning at that contracted position
he prayed for everybody there and for me
and at times he encouraged me
and when the time came for me to leave I knew that:
everybody is His missionary,
His messenger and His prophet
that you measure a man, rather on his deeds
than on mere words.
[This poem is written to my friend Geoffrey Gollolo.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem