The Rock

I have a vision that I often see
and it's a picture of me.
Around me at my arms and feet,
lie the hands of everyone I meet.
Those who pull and push me in their direction
or grab hold for dear life.
Those whom I have helped pull from struggle and strife.
I am a rock, a solid base to stand and
one who is always willing to give a helping hand.
But when the rock begins to crumble and
my feet are no longer strong enough to stand,
whom will lend me,
a helping hand.

I can no longer understand or even see
why I am a rock and
everyone leans on me.
I am strong but not stronger than any other woman or man
yet around me lies a field of stronghold hands.

I have a vision that I often see and it's a picture of me.
But I am no longer crumbling but standing alone,
I not lending anyone's heart a temporary home.
I am listening to no more problems and no more fears,
but I am living for Kenyatta and I have been for years.
Yet this vision may never come to pass,
because I have been the rock for at least ten years in the past.
So as much I may try and wish that it came true,
I shall continue to stand with the hands of old and new.