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The Path

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

A son of the dirt since my birth,

I look back without rancor or mirth,

And — I remember.

 

Polished words did not pass my lips,

Nor fine clothes touch my fingertips,

And — I remember.

 

Without inheritance in the land,

Through struggles and hunger, I grew into a man,

And  — I remember.

 

Beaten but never bowed,

In the School of Hard Knocks I was endowed,

And — I remember.

 

Wealth and power were never my goal.

I wanted water for thirst, food for my soul,

And — it happened.

 

No longer hungry or thirsty, I’m fed and gird.

I’m finding the answers, written in the Word,

And — I won’t forget.

 

I’ve found the path that’ll take me home,

And I’ll go in peace, remembering,

As I say, “Shalom!”

 

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