Poetry

13th July 2016.

I see you, walking in bodies of three

The good, the bad, the ugly

Wandering like the sanctified feet of Moses

Casting out your hands in gestures of utterances

Looking like your mind is bounded by the lines of your salvation on opposite sight

I see, you’ve let go of memories of me

Your infatuation has ceased over these many inordinate years

Your need for me to teach you my mother’s tongue has out grown you

You no longer recognise the tribes on my face

The parted sea in my mouth

The staff behind my words

Your choice of me to be the mark or the henry. Both on a bad day

I see you are no longer checking for me

You’ve found yourself another target, haven’t you?

She’s good, she’s pretty, she is the one whose tongue you do not envy as much

She is plain, isn’t she?

I see you, walking back in bodies of three

I never expected less, you always looked like you’d be the one to make it

We did too.

Day Six ❤️

Dear me Dare to live a life in the uncomfortable

Dare to speak volumes of the One you know

Dare to write library for the One you love

Let His truth be a gushing river of enough,

to fill your innermost being.

You are the journalist,

The poet,

The teacher.

The aftermath of the story told.

Day Five ❤️

Dear me, Unravel yourself as a miracle to the masses

Marvel at the blinding sight of your gracious potential; when

asked to cast out your arrows

Cast them and

Do not stop until

You have made oceans of knowledge, made

Mountains in understanding, and

Wisdom as countless as the sand on the seashore.

Be rest assured

That dreams are not made only for movies, your

possibility does not hide in the dream itself, rather

It is unravelled in you as the miracle to the masses.

Day Four ❤️

Dear me,

Boast in the God made weakness of your lips, love the stutters from your mouth.

They are not delay thoughts neither are they uttered from a place of confusion but simply waves of prayers pushing against the current of your throat.

Like the world would be at a disservice unless your very tongue is ushered out sequentially.

Your stutters are beautiful, never stop.

Instead let it be prove of how much faith you have in God.

Use it to remind yourself that your every breath is worship to God

And your words will one day be used as an instrument to bring the source of light to people.

15. Waiting

I find myself always waiting.

Not upon the second arrival of my Saviour kind of wait. But,

The kind that causes you to wait for the other shoe to drop.

The ‘I know my idle hands ought to find something worth doing but I’ll wait anyways’ kind of wait.

I repeatedly mistake being STILL for waiting.

In the unfolding of this story, I wait

Knowing there’s a master and a field,

desperate for more labourers.

Still I wait for Him to ask me to work for him.

14. Abba Father.

We will rise as the bearer tears the shadows from the surface of the Earth.

We will mount the air on which our souls will lay,

and cry the testimonial cries of the One we were made to become.

Exclaiming in reverence ‘Abba Father’.

13. Unmoved.

You’re the kind of God that spoke light out of darkness

You’re the kind of God that speaks understanding out of silence

You are not an Ordinary God

Sometimes I fear I will never move

I don’t know what it will take for me to move

Out of my comfort zone and into yours

I reap out of the abundant of your love

But God, I don’t know what it will take for me to

Move into the secret place with You

I see you standing but I feel unmoved in my actions to you

But at the same time moved by You.

Is that even possible, to be unmoved by my actions for you

But in the same breath, be moved by You?

Maybe, it’s the breath I still have in me that causes me to believe

The day will never come.