In the faces of my comfortable foes
There is a smirk;
They delight to see me suffer
So they can gloat.
They come to me with fake smiles
Hoping to try my patience
Hoping to show they
Are better off than me.
I look to God
From their treacherous visages;
Whose report have I believed?
None but His.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I liike this one, Samuel. Someone did you a great disservice by giving this poem a '1.' Many people don't like references to God, but your faith shows beautifully in this poem and will sustain you all your life.. Raynette