Always

Every year, 

One adds on. 

Getting old, maturing, growing up, 

A priviledge denied to crowds, 

Which I welcome with open arms, 

Calling life to fill me.

May mine be useful, 

Lightening the burden of many

Dressing the wounds of others. 

May my home be made of 

A table, 

A pot

And many chairs around, 

Welcoming to all.

May they come in to find

Grace, Forgiveness

Love and humour. 

May they recover their desire to live, 

When they will know themselves to be loveable

And loved. 

I have a whole life ahead of me, 

Or so it seems. 

It isn't mine to hold. 

It embraces my dreams, 

But it shall embrace, forever more, 

The broken hearts, the closed off ones, 

Who do not dare to live any longer. 

May my eyes brush the dry skin, 

Meet the lowered glance, 

The tainted eye, 

The troubled mind.

I wish to give who I am

To those who have nothing, 

Who were never told

They were worth something.

May the love rooted in my heart, 

The unconditionnal affection I was given, 

Be the fuel I run on, 

To find the outcast and the lost. 

My life is ahead of me, 

Lord let me say, 

On the day it withers, 

I gave, plenty, 

I received, plenty more, 

I lived under the heavens, 

Today I journey home, 

With a spirit filled with memories, 

Of hopes regained, 

That I could bless,

The ones we had forgotten.