Level 1 Member
Monday, January 5, 2009, 1:05 PM
I just posted a message to a friend here on Bnet...and then remembered something she had mentioned in a post a few weeks ago. I then remembered this old poem that was once so dear to me. I haven't thought about it in such a long time. I once copied it for someone very important to me...a good memory about someone I lost twenty-five years ago. Thank you dear friend.
Are My People
Rosa Zagnoni Marinoni
My people? Who are they?
I went into the church where
Worshiped my God. Were they my people?
I felt no kinship
to them as they knelt there.
My people! Where are they?
I went into
the land where I was born,
Where men spoke my language...
I was a stranger
‘My people,’ my soul cried. ‘Who are my people?’
Last night in
the rain I met an old man
Who spoke a language I do not speak,
marked him as one who does not know my God.
With apologetic smile he offered
The shelter of his patched umbrella.
I met his eyes... And then I