When intense strife afills my heart with woes,
And problems of all sorts dullens my mind,
And supervenes insomnia by foes,
In God and prayer, solace I still find.
When things don’t happen timely when I want,
Immersed in grief, my heart seems wounded much,
With solutions eluding, think I can’t,
I plead and long for Maker’s magic touch.
When all seems lost in life on earth to me,
And not a person offers words of love,
In solitude, I suffer verily,
My only comfort is my God above.
In strife, my soul for God truly athirsts;
When sin-forgiven, jubilantly bursts.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-25-2006
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem