What can I write when sorrows hand lies heavy on my brow?
What can I write when all around are crying ‘Now, now, now’?
Where is the peace for which I long with all the clamour gone
Where are those soft green pastures that You said You will lead me on?
Have my prayers been heard? But nothing’s changed; things daily getting worse.
In health’s decline, old age’s range, too much for this old horse
The days I sought, kin round my knee, just never came to pass
I can’t even read a story for my voice can only rasp.
I expected a gracious genteel old age; a picturesque decline
Instead I’m fighting like a cat to save this life of mine
I’ll go here; No, there; try this or that; the ocean too far away
No paddling in the gentle waves. I can’t afford to stay.
This is a rich man’s paradise but it’s a poor man’s hell
No cake is passed round on my plate; do I want bread as well?
And yet I tell you all I want is to be in my Father’s will
So would you pray it will be so for I need your friendship still?
Wyn Barratt May 2013.