Regeneration on Women’s Day

Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

I had told you in the first part of this piece, that these poets wrote 18 poems on this day, 25th February 2022. I want to do a sort of back and forth with the period that I draw pieces from. This time, I am continuing my account of a more recent time.

The topic is Regeneration.

And I bring you Zoe Ziva, writing at 10:33am, on the 25th of February:


That same Spirit that raised up Christ from the dead, heal your mum and heal my pastors wife too.

Vitalizing, regenerating, nothing broken, nothing missing.

Cardiac arrested, arrested the evil one, our prayers will not cease, this peace will not rest in this, for she will see the light of day on earth, stand on her two feet, her memory will reboot, amnesia would not be a name.

Your mum’s eyes will regenerate, God’s healing balm still has Gilead on it, now it resides in our heart.

Our faith will rise, our hands lifted, we do not forsake our own mercies, we choose to trust in The King rather than observe Lying vanities.


Since I’ve been younger till now that I’m grown, I’ve always seen that faith always wins.
Even in our time, this testimony would be so.

Rejoice.


And at 11:05 AM, the Elegant and Elusive Imani Dokubo:


I join you in prayers
I agree with you in faith
Her sight is restored
Her healing permanent

She sees clearly
The goodness and mercy of our God never runs out on her

We rejoice not in the future but now, for the end we have seen clearly.


Again, let me paint the context. So, one of us, Ade, had just written a freestyle spurt in which he indicated that his mother had just undergone surgery. We all subsequently dove into praying for her through our poetry…very touching stuff.

At 11:08 AM, Aebube with the kiss kiss emojis, wrote:


Just a turned ignition and boom
Men set off in tripedation

It’s not a holy feeling, the jitters are killing slowly
It made me sorrow only

Tell me I’m going to heal really quick from this fear and trepidation, this isn’t some perdition
right?

Of course it isn’t
For Christ paid the ultimate price so I’m forever freed from its shackles

My life is not on hold I’ve been unshackled from the chains of fear, the word alone regenerates me

For he has not given me the spirit of fear but of sound mind and power

Who I’m to agitate about tomorrow’s out come when Yahweh is there

He is the way, the truth and the life, for him alone I mount with wings like an eagle yet do not faint

My strength renewed, no cent used.


She posted that, and after a few minutes, at 11:50 AM, she continued:


They tried to bury me
Not ones
Not twice
For the third time I’m being covered with earth

Fascinating right?
So much they didn’t know
Ohhhh men carefully calculate

With vigour they plan our undoing yet
Ignorance deprive them of their sight

They can’t see right
Though all calculations seemed just perfect

They buried themselves and thought they’re done for, here we’re spouting a leave

With our lips pouted in mockery
They’re left in awe
Our God’s way smarter

We’re his seed buried to regenerate
Just like him we rise
Again and again we’re crowned with Victory to stay above and not beneath.


And then, my darling MeerahZoe, wrote this at 11:53 AM:


What’s more beautiful than a birth?
A rebirth.
The beautiful promise of a second chance
A do over when you’re done over

Twice I’ve lain in the fetal position
The first time oblivious to my existence
The second time wanting to end it

See pain is selfish, you only feel it when you’re self focused.
The man who invented diversional therapy would be out of business otherwise.

Twice I’ve lain in the fetal position
The first time oblivious to my Father’s company
The second time too self-seeing to see Him

It’s easier to ask for a break and a do over,
Blaming the God who supposedly didn’t give it
Than it is to see that the new life He gave you is all the practice you need to be reborn

But pain is selfish, and I would rather reject His comfort than put in the work.
Our faith walk however is sometimes like school, you don’t get past any stage without doing the work.

Standing on my feet again, I hope the sight of the ground from this angle is enough to remind me the next time
That a righteous man can fall seventy times
And rise up seventy times.


Today’s article has consisted strictly of women. I did not really plan that it should be so, but so it has come to pass. Today also happens to International Women’s Day. It makes me wonder, is there a local women’s day?

We hail the woman; for her tenacity, patience, kindness, beauty and industry.

Happy International Women’s Day


Authors:
Zoe Ziva
Imani Dokubo
Ebube
MeerahZoe

TALE OF THE HEAVENS

Far away
Away as the waters that once finds its dwelling at shore

How far is far
Are you talking about endless oceans or a stary sky?

I have lost my rhythm at the sound of the endless ocean
Scared to trace the pathway
Which I once trusted as the Broadway

The way to the Broadway can be deceptive
But we are receptive to the leading of the rhythm within
The one that leads to the path of life

The path of life
The crown of eternity
Grizzled with Gold and emerald
Joining the Herald
The cherubs and seraphs in the song of redemption

The very redemption that liberates
The one that exposes me to my strengths
The joy is unending
This song ushers me to rivers of living water

Most times I hear more about angels singing
But poetry is hardly talked about
Does the angel write?
Is poetry their kind?

If they ever wrote I wonder what colour the words displayed
But I think to myself, if Christ is a poet then maybe their is a trace that leaves clues

Maybe they write in blue
Or green, or pink,
No, I think golden, because of the golden scroll
Maybe not
Maybe black or brown or no color
Maybe their ways is a mystery to unravel

I think a greater mystery to unravel is the way they study their master through us, the chosen once, the once who have given themselves to the Word

It teaches me the true way of a living master
That conquered me in my rebellion
Adonai
That divided the river Nile

The Niles hear and see
They are receptive to the masters voice
Same way they can be with ours
Cause the signet has been placed on us

Imani Dokubo
The Alchemist
© 2019