[As I look out my bedroom window I look to the high mountains; often shrouded from sight by mist, but ever present. It is as I reflect on this reality that I presume to speak for the people of Haiti and offer this prayer and pronouncement of hope.]Mine is the land of high mountains, Ajiti.
Where do I find God?
I live in the poorest of lands,
Where do I find hope?
When my land quakes and the buildings fall,
my people die -
Where do I find tears?
I look around me and I see the high mountains
But angry scars now gouge their sides;
Even these platforms of the Most High,
The magnificent symbols of my land,
These handiworks of God are changed –
But not forever –
They, like me, will recover;
Together we will heal.
And there is my Hope found,
There in the Creator’s handiwork
I find my reason for believing that
God has not forgotten me.
My God who hears the heavens and the earth
Will not let me be forgotten,
My Creator who does not engineer mistakes
Will not overlook me,
The Architect of the universe
Will not be found sleeping!
My Hope and my Guide watches over me
The earthquake has not destroyed me
The hurricanes will not defeat me.
Despite appearances
My Protector is watching out for me.
You may ask – where is your God now?
And I will answer:
In my people, [In you?]
In my high mountains,
In my Dreams and in my Hope.
