Dear Father,
A little pink book to write how I look
In the world of physicalities and spiritual matters.
Hectic days predominate the scene,
From here to there without a plan or scheme.
As if jumping through the hoops in an equestrian relay,
Without stopping for a breath, not a moment to delay.
Check off on your list, all that you've completed,
And not until you're done are you allowed to be seated.
All the while the world around is constantly swirling
With agendas to be met that keep me ever twirling.
Recollections emerge of how we worked with harsh reagents
Paid with mere pennies to find a cure for sick patients
I entered into this darkness, blind to its dangers,
Only looking for a position in ivory hall chambers.
But Father, now those years have finally passed
I moved far away from the chemicals' destructive grasp,
But their effects upon me continue, still hauntingly linger
From my head to my toes down to my baby finger.
But with You by my side I have no reason to cry,
Though I had no protection from those caustic vapors and dyes
So I cling to You now my sweet Father and Lord
As the cells in my body start to play different chords.
I will lean on You now, through the thick and the thin, Determined to
smile, and not let the evil one win.
I will not focus on my troubles nor the worries on my sleeve,
But will be faithful to my husband and to you forever cleave.
Love ,
Deborah
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