Prayer [2] Poem by Gert Strydom

Paint every single word
like Your flowers
that grows wild in the veldt,

let my poems sound
like the Messiah of Handel,
like angels singing about your glory,

translate my words,
so that others can see the world
through my eyes, can feel what I do experience,

safeguard me against criminals
that constantly sneaks around, against murderers
that destroys without a conscience

deliver me from a government which is set for only its own interests,
from creditors, door-to-door salesmen,
vagrants, friends who do not know me in the bitter years,

forgive me for the sin
that I commit knowing and unknowing,
for the way that I sometimes act with my fellow-men

and please do give me Your insight and Your light
which brings truth to darkness,
a circle of friends which goes wider and wider
let Your hand fold around me like a fortress.