Young man of medicine, so tired and worn…
Not much for him to believe in, he has seen too much.
He has done his best to keep it all together.
The God he once believed, cannot be seen, he is shaken in his faith.
He looks into the sky, if only the rains will come.
So unsure to ask God to cleanse the land, the people might have a chance.
He hasn’t prayed in such a long while, yet he still wants to ask.
It’s not for him; he works himself to the point of despair…
If only the rain would come, and start to wash away the pain.
Life could start to heal; the children will start to grow again.
It won’t be a quick fix, he is so aware of this.
It will start to ease the suffering, it will renew hope.
No medicine can heal this situation, the science he believed, slightly holds back death.
So exhausted, so frustrated, he feels he has failed the desperate souls…
Out of his own desperation, he kneels and prays, his science tells him it useless…
He humbles himself before the God, he thought he lost; it’s been too many years.
So strange he feels, he is touched by something…
I don’t think he could ever explain it, feeling deep inside: a feeling that he thought was lost.
He looked up to the heavens, hoping his prayers are heard.
He hoped above all, for the mercy of God and then the rains came.