Reading Time: < 1 minuteThe Reward
I buried my talent,
I burned my lamp, waiting.
I fed myself
and drank;
I kept my clothing,
didn’t visit.
Alone, in prison You waited.
I sowed and reaped
what was mine,
believed I was with sheep.
You told me thrice,
“Behold, I come quickly!”
with vengeance and grace.
You did.
And I did not prepare,
for my work was only for me.
– David Noorzdy
David Noordzy writes his poems from Fayetteville, AR, where he lives with his wife, Susan, and works as a substance abuse counselor for the Department of Veterans Affairs. He attends the Jasper CoG7 and is currently training their young Boxer as a service animal. David enjoys the outdoors and drinking coffee with good friends.
Latest posts by David Noordzy (see all)
- His - September 6, 2016
- The Reward - December 6, 2015
