MY PEOPLE? Who are they?

         I went into the church where the congregation

         Worshiped my God. Were they my people?

         I felt no kinship to them as they knelt there.

         My people! Where are they?

         I went into the land where I was born,

         Where men spoke my language .

         I was a stranger there.

         “My people,” my soul cried. “Who are my people?”


         Last night in the rain I met an old man

         Who spoke a language I do not speak,

         Which marked him as one who does not know my God.

         With apologetic smile he offered me

         The shelter of his patched umbrella.

         I met his eyes. . . And then I knew. .


                                  ROSA ZAGNONI MARINONI

Return to the main menu...

Return to the poetry index

D.U.O Project
Church of the Science of God
La Jolla, California 92038-3131

Church of the Science of GOD, 1993
Web Designed by WebDiva