It seems as if...
God chooses to select and pick,
Those who are...
The least interested,
Of an attention to get...
For the purpose to deliver,
Messages...
They find difficult to explain.
Or make attempts to defend,
The contents within them.
'I dislike what you've said.'
-Trust me,
If I heard the truth...
From someone I had not met,
Or never knew...
I'd be upset and offended too.
Perhaps when I leave,
To do what I've come to do...
It won't be about me,
But the message.
I am not getting paid,
To be called names.
Or witness eyebrows raised.
If I were...
I'm sure God would not test me,
Periodically...
By keeping me mentally,
And physically fit...
To duck, bob and weave,
From a thrown fist.-
'What are you talking about? '
-Your message.
If it had came from me,
I wouldn't knock on your door.
I'd email or text.
Then pretend I meant,
Something entirely different.
Without God,
I am not that courageous.
You can bet on that.-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem