Grass will grow

If you should take my child Lord

Give my hands strength to dig his grave

Cover him with earth

God send a little rain

For grass will grow

If my house should burn down

So that ashes sting my nostrils

Making my eyes weak

Then Lord send a little rain

For grass will grow

But Lord do not send me madness

I ask for tears

Do not send me moon hard madness 

To lodge snug in my skull

I would you send me hordes of horses

Galloping,

Crushing

But do not break the yoke of the moon on me

                    Jonathan Kariagu

Lord,I hope this day is good..🎶look up that song. I woke up feeling pumped up with the energy that emits motivation. Then I thought,why not share it here. So here we go. This poem does it all the time when no good is coming my way. The main aim of this writ is expression. I don't intend to forcefully make it your favourite but I sincerely hope it gives you a sigh moment. 

I live in the countryside where grass is a carpet,natural and normal. We see grass,different types all round and every day regardless of the season. It has a way of saying I'll be here until when you decide to slab me up. Grass is slashed to keep nature's carpet in a beautiful tamed shape. Sometimes backs before modernity interfered with most burial rituals,the dead would be buried and a seed planted atop of the grave. Plants have life. When the plant grows it yields hope.  

When you lose something,there's always a thing to gain from it however small. If it is not tangible then it will be a lesson worth of reference. ..then give my hands strength., with the little you get make the most out of it. Nature rewards and grass will grow. Have a hope filled weekend.