Frankincense smothered,

beneath the withering bark of city trees.

Humming dig deep.

What shall I find?

A retrieved soul.

Many streams flowing of milk and honey.

Ghettos laid of straw.

Thankful,

my feet are walking.

Although I’ve struggled days without lights.

Thankful my hands are mighty.

Although my battles have been hard to fight.

Yes I’ve cried praying with my tears on the ground

I am a

Thankful soul.

Poet:Krissy Mosley©2014