Poem August 2, 2004 Issue

A CHILD CALLS FROM DARFUR

A Psalm

Karim Ajania

Lord, how I long to be carried upon Your wing
Under the radiance of Your Love.
To dwell in Your country
And to be ministered to by Your angels.

For this dear and desperate Darfur,
Blazing mercilessly with heat and cruelty,
Is not my dwelling place.
I live not in this hell, but in Your heaven.

With my throat parched, sore and tired from screaming,
With tears encrusted within the dirt of my hollowed cheeks,
I cup my trembling hands and lift my gaze up to You,
And say my quiet prayer for my beloved country,
And for all the countries, for all the countries.

Send a comment to the editors

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit

A CHILD CALLS FROM DARFUR

We'd love to hear from you!

Sign up for unlimited access