Village boy Impressions

The day and the hour draws nigh  When all shall return to Him  Who did form them of word and clay  And did give to  all His own breath  And set them upon the earth to tend  And to possess it for a time.  Before him, all shall stand  Bare, silent, helpless.  Fear, you sons of men, tremble!  Fall prostrate before Him.  Shred the malice of  your heart  And drop that haughty look  For of all nails that did stab Him;  That vain look is most piercing.  For what are thou, son of man?  A puff of smoke, wisp of air, dust That lingers but for a moment  And vanishes without trace.  Why do you now risk His wrath?  And court His just fury?  Take this ash upon the brow  Bend your knee and look not up  But hasten to declare your fault  And wail in lamentation:  "Spare us, O master!  For our guilt is heavier  Than ever we can bear" . First published - 01.03.2017

When evenings in Sandema were dark, His footsteps on the road were heard, On journeys long with his Bible in hand, In Faith and works he showed the way. From Kori number 1 to number 2 both, From nearby Kobdema to far-off Kalijiisa, Across streams to Nyaansa and hills to Suwarinsa, A weary pilgrim on many treacherous roads. With girls and boys, men and women, With Roman Catholics and protestant folk, With those of faith and those without it, All their sorrows and joys he shared. A gentle voice, a helping hand, Knees that bleed from kneeling in prayer, A soft cackling laugh, with seamless teeth, The perfect listener, with limitless patience. Long upon an empty stomach he went, And defied both the devil and his lieutenants, His Bible and faith were his only staff, Upon them, he leaned and hoped and prayed.             Read:  Village Boy Impressions - Fathers Hail the man Jacob Adongo Atambilla, The son of Atambilla of Bongo Gorogo, Who today