And Grace Found Me


And grace found me at the foot of the steps where I stumbled
He led me into a reverie of affections
And taught me how to make love with my emotions

And Grace found me picking doubt from my rag toothed skeleton
He asked me how I’d survived without the love of Christ
In the oxygen depleted pond of atheism

And Grace found me remunerating inside the tunnel of avarice
For the love of money is the stem that upholds deception
Broken dry Reed called Egypt that can’t be any souls trust

And Grace found me lingering about the field of blood
Waiting to retrieve the thirty pieces of silver
Instead of shouting maranatha with the 120 in the upper room

And Grace found me in the valley of mundane things
Brazilian hair, iPhone 6x, faultless make up, designer dresses
And all those cravings that sounds strange to Holy Mary

And Grace found me yet he wasn’t judgmental
He asked me why I was still babbling in unknown tongues
Instead of fellowshipping with the Holy Spirit

And Grace found me with the gift of a clean shave
Got rid of my eagle-feathered hair and bird claw nails
It’s been seven millennia wandering in the field of unbelief
I’d never imagined going through such quick transformation
Like Joseph’s speedy status change
Until I was discovered by Grace

Rebekah E.
© 2020

Things Unseen!

I don’t know much about faith,
But if mine could be measured,
I am sure a mustard seed would feel bigger,
And a feather would hold more weight,
And tip the scale more than my faith,
On any given SI Unit

I don’t know much about Agric science;
How one plants a seed in an unknown soil,
In the night, full of uncertainties,
Hoping it germinates into a plant,
Bearing fruits of things one wished for,

I don’t know much about moving Mountains,
But I know of the Faith,
That made a woman wrestle her way through a crowd,
So that her rain forest of blood could be a desert,
That multiplied five loaves and two fishes into thousands and five baskets,
That defied the law of physics,
So, Peter could walk on water,

I don’t know much about Miracles,
But I know the One,
That turned water to wine,
That called the dead out of his tomb,
And called the bluff of a storm,
He is the one I present this little seed to,
Hoping that the things unseen in my life,
Manifests into sights best known to man.

Olaoye Adeleye
(C) 2019

Hello Fear

Hello Fear!
Dear dear! I know you well.
I saw through your charade especially the times you sounded like you cared.
Yet I gave you room in my mind.
Grace found me and faith came with him so there’s no more space for you.
You were never really my friend, for you held me back from being the best version of me.
You clouded my dreams and blurred my visions.
You made clever speeches about how you’re shielding me from disappointment and hurt.
Your truth is all a sham!
I’m free from your grip now and I know you, you’ll never give up.
But I also know your voice too well to open up again and let you in.
Take your walk of shame with every sense of pride you’ve got,
IT’S OVER!

Ijeoma Obi
© 2020

Who Am I?

I have sought a definition
A sentence that could give me full expression of who I actually am

Am I a girl?
Is my life best expressed in the gender
In the XX of my genotype
Or in the comely form of my phenotype?

Am I a youth?
The leader of tomorrow; the pillar of today,
Am I one of the millions of jolly fresh faced persons
Brewing with passion but lacking in knowledge,
Just hustling to make it?

Am I a Nigerian?
Do I get my identity from my southern roots
Trying to fit into the mold of societal stereotypes?

Am I a graduate?
Is that laminated certificate in my box my identity card
Such that I am quick to shove my titles in peoples faces
Using that as a basis for unhealthy comparison…
But deep down I know
I am not my profession and my profession is not me
So help me answer this question who am I?

Guys, it took a long time to realize who I was
To understand that I couldn’t find myself by looking inward
but looking outward
that I would only see my true reflection
when I look in His mirror
that my true life is wrapped in his death and glorious ascension
that my life is not about the external but the eternal

but that my real identity is in JESUS
not in gender or status or nationality or age or education or skill
so who am I?
I am a child of God, a joint heir with Christ
I am a spiritual, supernatural, extraordinary human being
Trust me,
I am not just a girl, I am not just a youth,
I am not just a Nigerian, I am not just a graduate, I am not just a poet…
I AM A CHILD OF GOD!

Damaris
© 2020

The Faith Virus


There’s a pint sized creature dancing in my head
It stomps on the well worn neural pathways
Connecting my thoughts to my fingers
So when I think ‘God is good’
It comes out sort of ‘Gulder’s fool’
And I swear, I’m not even drunk

There’s a pint sized creature dancing in my head
It stomps on the well worn neural pathways
Connecting my visual center to my subconscious
So when I see God’s promises in print
I think “this surely can’t be true”
And then life proves me right

There’s a pint sized creature dancing in my head
It stomps on the well worn neural pathways
Connecting His words to my actions
So when I want to do good,
I find I do anything but
And I don’t even mean to

There’s a pint sized creature dancing in my head
It stomps on the well worn neural pathways
Connecting my heart to His law
So when I see His ability to save me
I concentrate more on my ability to change me
Even when I know I can’t

This tiny bot
Has taken up res
In my software
Daring me to try and fry him
I know I’m not tech savvy
But I do know about malware
So as the word flashes on my screen
I drive this point home;
“Faith comes by hearing and hearing the word of God”
So with my mind receptive and vulnerable
My bot is obliterated.

Ifechukwu Miracle
©2020

Drive Past It

I stopped driving at 16 when I had my first accident. The cost of it all made me decide to let the keys go, like lovers on some bridge in Paris, after adding their locks to the teeming number that will cripple the bridge.

This is not a poem. And it is not about lucks or keys
or a kiss or about spoon feeding emotions
or trying to have a relationship
or driving a career worthy of a Fast and Furious adaptation or a Shakespeare narration.

This is to the one who has felt heartbreak close up but, like one of the blind asked to describe the structure of the elephant, will take my words with a pinch of salt. Add it to that part of your wound that a heartbreak caused, cover your cracks with it, do an Nsibidi inscription on your sensitivity.

Heartbreaks are bad for your Health.

Remember when I said I stopped driving, well, I will drive again, and again and again and again. That is how hearts get broken…and heal.

You love or trust or have certain expectations for/from people, their inability to meet up or match your expectations leaves you hurt, and now I have been summoned from Frankenstein’s grave to tell you this;

Don’t stop loving, don’t stop being optimistic, don’t stop expecting the best from people.

Don’t stop believing…
Don’t stop loving…
That is how hearts get broken…and heal enough to heal other broken hearts.


Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
©2020

Sleep

Let’s talk about sleep
There is a sin in sleep
The sin of drunkenness
When men are not sober and careful
When you no longer watch and pray

Let’s talk about sleep
That which you do in closed eyes
Dark nights
When your lamp is out
When your love waxes cold

So how do you not sleep?
Watch and pray
Shut up and ponder the Word
Let your words be few
For a man of many words , is a man of deep sleep

And when you don’t sleep
You become a star
A light in the dark world of heavy sleepers
And you will extinguish darkness wherever you go
Making the Kingdom come

The LORD never sleeps and never slumbers
Learn a sober and self controlled lesson
His army is a people of an alert watching and waiting
Are you in the LORD’s army?
What are you waiting for?

The LORD gives to His beloved sleep
In His presence is joy and pleasures for ever more
This is not like the fleeting pleasures of sin
This is the orgasm of resurrection
The sleep He gives is the resurrection of a living sacrifice

While men slept, the enemy sows tars
Your old men shall dream dreams
You sleep in order to dream
This is a word for the wise at heart
A promise for them who have a track record of the fear of God

Favour Omeje
© 2020

If All Were Medicine

IF ALL WERE MEDICINE

If all were medicine
Jehova Rapha would’ve retired
and left his theatre for vaccine

but
all weren’t about men’s abilities:

For all doctors had her contact, yet
her flow was as a pool –
the woman with blood issue.
but when to the Rabbi’s hem touched
the river ceased
and to her, received wholeness

If all were medicine
His stripes would be no more but useless
and thirty-nine lashes in vain

but
all weren’t about men’s discoveries

For Lazarus was ill
three days being buried to death
yet on the fourth, the man of Galilee cried
there in loud voice, he raised the dead
“loose him, let him go”

If all were medicine
there won’t be miracle
in the name of Yeshua…

But all weren’t medicine,
let’s shout “Jesus
and we’re healed!

Josh Oluwafemi Oloyede
©2020