I have to be ready,
To gulp down scores of tablets and capsules,
Be ready to bear the continuous
Prick of syringes, the whole
Be ready to see father hold back his tears,
And be ready to escape the vision of mother
Smiling fakery, while her heart bleeds
At the plight of her blood son.
Be ready for the momentary visits of people,
Relatives, cousins and friends,
Who come with heavy hearts and leave with silent prayers.
But today it is not that morning,
Those mornings are left far behind,
The grasp of prayers has pulled me back,
And for this new beautiful morning,
I thank with all heart,
My Caring Lord!
(First published in The Barefoot Review, U.S of A)