Blessed Mother Teresa of Kolkatta

True Messenger
(A Tribute to Mother of Kolkatta)


Commuters running up and down,
A living corpse, I saw in town.
Gaunt figure, with body bleeding,
Worsened by the clouds’ drizzling.
A dying leper, mercy imploring,
Human statues, callously walking.
He could foresee, his nearing end,
Why? Why did God not aid send?
That frail’s life, was full of dark,
Waited and waiting, for a pitied hark.
As death was nearing, I saw a hand,
He felt himself, elated from sand.
A wrinkled figure, clad in white,
Came in the dark, to spread the light.
She wiped his wounds, with a smile,
“Receive God’s love, my dear child.”
A true messenger of divine love was she,
Appointed to fulfill His plan to free.
On wrinkled face, the grace I could see,
That bade me; mother of Kolkatta was she,
Nay, of Kolkatta, but of the world,
Who brought in life, joys unfurled.

- B. Johnson Maria