As you kneel beside your bed tonight,
Bible in your hand
Bear in mind my urgent plight
From a distant land.
My nights are plagued by gory dreams
And every day dawns cold.
No one understands, it seems.
This pain is growing old.
But I have a hope that keeps me strong,
It keeps my faith alive:
My end is near, it won’t be long
Until the day I die.
I’ve done my job, I’ve spread the word,
Done what I know is right
And though I’m hated by the world,
I’m precious in God’s sight!
But please don’t ever cease to pray
For though I’m going home,
Thousands more like me remain—
I’m not the only one.
I wrote this poem one day for a poetry contest, but when it was finished I wanted to share it. People like the martyr in the poem exist all over the world, and they need our prayers more than anything else. I wrote this hoping that it would remind us of what some people are going through.