I’ll never meet him,
Feel his trained doctor’s touch
Or herd the goats while watching the
Chickens peck for corn so near his simple
Infirmary, a clinic I will never see.
He, dark and luxurious of skin, the pillar
Of his native African village
Will never know my name.
He will go on his mission of mercy
Grateful, untroubled, confident in knowing
Someone, somewhere, intercontinental,
Believed in him, this unknown young man,
Could help with the work of Christ,
To gently cure the sick.