A frame of my anticipated joy

Dark with unthinkable gloom almost defeated my thoughts
As I made an effort to arrange in my mind my anticipated joy.
The stories of the recent past days stored a deep sorrow in mind,
But I decided to handle my emotions with prudence.
How many discoveries can bring me understanding?
How much memory of tale, heard and read from my cradle?
If not for God in our lives,
our sorrows would have accompanied us to another world.
I have heard stories, endless stories;
I have read books, countless in number;
Each day unfolded a horrible mystery;
But King Solomon guided me with his wisdom.
I almost lost patience as in vain
I hunted for news on the local radio stations
I took control of my desire
When the village bell reminded me of my midday prayers.
Many decades of years have passed by,
But my people still carry the mystic mark from that terrible scene of sorrow;
As I watched them in silence,
More fear gripped my fragile body.
My headaches became unexplainable,
As thorns of sorrow pierced my heart with pains,
No more tears find its way through my eyes
because weeping and sorrows have become our daily ration.
A great voice echoed my name in the air
As I sat at the window of my heart
Wondering over the scene of our past years,
Like a thing of toy for a small mind like mine,
Wondering if I dare attempt to write a story.
Still sitting alone in the same house of contemplation
A voice like that of an angel whispered again:
At this time, the message was clear to me;
I began to smile, dance and clapped my hands in joy.
My people will soon embrace peace: 
Lasting peace, divine peace, and heavenly peace;
God has finally remembered us,
He will come to renew the face of the earth.
I noted unconsciously, the blue of the sky,
The deep grey masses of cloud, the quiet beauty of the sun,
The waving branches of the trees, the gentle breeze that passed,
The singing of the birds, the busy ants:
All at the festival to welcome back everyone.
My almost forgotten nation,
The dejected pride of my fatherland
Shall soon reappear in her Royal Majesty, crowned with ornaments,
Other nations shall make merry in her honour.
A song of victory shall welcome back the rising sun from the East.
Our children will once again return into the village square;
Our daughters shall dance at the advent of the new moon;
Our youths and elders will be in jubilation;
We will all sit on the ground, in a circle, and list again our story of salvation.
Prisca Onyinye Nwokorie is a  Roman Catholic nun. She belongs to the religious order of “Oblates of St. Benedict Joseph Labre” in Italy. She is a graduate of the University of Bari where she obtained her Bachelor’s and Masters’ degrees in “Information and Communication Technologies for the Production of Software” and “Computer Science” respectively. Currently, she is carrying out research work on “E-learning for Developing Countries”.

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