A Lonely House in the Steppe - end

A Mother’s Prayer
The oil lamp flickered, casting its glow,
The sickly child cried out, heartache in tow.
“Oh my little one, my precious, my dear,”
The old woman trembled, consumed by her fear.
Orphaned, alone, with no parents in sight,
Could I bring him here, make everything right?
Is this a test from God, a challenge to bear?
With faith in my heart, I’ll endure this despair.
When will my child smile, when will he play?
When will he run by my side every day?
The cure for his illness lies far in Baghdad,
Only Qusayin knows how to mend what is bad.
I’ve read of him often, every word I recall,
Each line etched in memory, a lifeline through it all.
But how can I reach him, so far is the land?
With prayers in my heart, I’ll wait for his hand.

A Prayer of Wonder

Oh, God, I marvel at Your mighty grace,
To not be in awe would be a disgrace.
“Your prayers, Creator, have found their way,
I am Qusayin, the doctor which you asked today.”

If God wills, even sand can shift and sway,
Clouds can gather, turning night into day.
A plane landed softly in this remote land,
Your doctor has come, just as You planned.

As she spoke, the lamp flickered back to life,
The old woman wept, burdened with strife.
When two wretched souls were joined in their tears,
The stream from their eyes washed away their fears.

In that moment, the sky cleared, so bright,
Sunshine burst forth, dispelling the night.
With renewed strength, Qusayin felt the call,
Rushing to save the child, heeding their all.

Copyright © Aibek Kalmaganbetov | Year Posted 2025

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