Pen to paper, I write,
Whether the burden of my heart be lifted,
I am blessed and fine and gifted,
And in high places I have hoped be seated,
But my reality complements not my hopes and dreams,
Sitting at the city gate, admiring society’s creme-d-la-crème.
Their skin glows brighter, their garments whiter,
Their ways smoother, ambitions fiercer,
But with much study I realize
They are not necessarily purer or brighter,
Perhaps they just work smarter and harder.
I can do this, be this,
I am blessed and fine and gifted,
Diligence in my place of gifting,
Surely must get to this place of lifting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful piece of literature