Poem

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 Seven ❤️

Dear me. You are accounted for.

Woven together in your mother’s womb. Where,

The nights of woman asked to hide you,

Only shines light on every intricate parts. You are,

Complexity for a name,

Your every moment laid out

Even before a single day has passed.

His workmanship is marvellous and your every breath is all that is required.

Day Three ❤️

Dear me,

You’ve survived over two decades now, Long enough to learn of the two rulers in this utopian land;

You will still come to realise their significance and that one will always be greater than the other.

You will get to understand their characters and where you think their flaws lies.

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.

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’.