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A desperate priest…!
In the silent neighborhood of Edinburgh; Lived a priest called Hansberg; Sincere and dedicated in his work he was, Always helpful whatever be the cause;
With seventy years of experience in his stride; On his age-old horse to places he would ride; Helping people in their distress and pain, Never would he let his ride go in vain…
Trembling feet of his horse did put up a fight; Evident was his performing the last rites… So frantic and urgent was the call, He had to break through boulders and walls…
Tearing down trees and splattering the snow, The pain and agony of his horse did grow. Paving his way and battling the storm, He galloped to his destination with a heart so warm…
He rushed to the man pondering through his past, Battling death but breathing his last, Standing and sharing his thoughts so wise, He mournfully stared at his fading eyes.
With a tinge of softness and voice full of care, He asked the man if he had anything to share… ‘Make your will’ demanded the priest, ‘So that your family can live in peace…’
Grabbing a pen, with shivering hands he wrote, And gladly handed to the priest the note… Still starring at the priest with eyes full of pain… Attempts to save his life were in vain…
On the funeral, the priest pulled out the note, So that he could read out what the man had wrote, ‘Since you came in sir, I am feeling so weak, Please step away from my oxygen pipe so that I can speak…’
Pinakin. M. Marathe
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