Tag: Body

WHAT YOU SEE

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It is a fact that when you look Up to the sky
You will see a bird or a plane
But what really comes to mind, what would enters the brain
If you think fast like the Flash
Is a God who picked you from the trash; bin,

Loved you with all your Sin
His son took lash that scratched his back like heat rash
Took spears to his side so he could bleed your mind off its ignorance
Made you see his light that you can make a round about of your life

And despite all your hurt that might have cut you deep like a knife
Plus the strife you faced and falter,
He brings you grace and all your failures he can alter
Will Make your body his Altar as your sight is fixed on his Word

You will soar like that bird
Become Batman when everybody around you only see Bruce Wayne
Then you will understand your efforts without him are Vain
And your Success story you can attain
If you just stay on the same lane with him,
He will give you power like you just work out in the gym
Make you a Star in his block buster film
But if you fail,

Well,
Blame your Eyes
Maybe, just maybe it advised your Mind wrong
Sees Failure when all he says is you are a success
Called you cursed when all he says is you are bless
But then, you can address your case like he did on that cross
As he took away your failure so he could add a dress of grace to your suitcase
That your tongue will only talk of his goodness,

For that will be the testimony you will attest to
So the next time you see Temptation or trials
Just Set your Eyes on the Hill
Take in his word like prescription pill
Then Chill,
Because your help is also staring you back in the face

Isoje Victor
© 2019

Death and the Imago Dei

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God says
I AM; space
shape-shifts on
His constancy
swinging and swerving in
and out, like flames
lit, waned, relit
by undying hands

Existence is
His filling , pouring
His infinite into
finiteness, a
creating, a
gaining fade, a death
process climaxed on
a Roman cross

His dying is living
life, is glorious
process played out
In moulding perfect
man, with His blood and body for
water and clay, art
and sacrifice, creation’s
true portrait

Ikenna Nwachukwu
© 2019

RHYTHM

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I am the music
The rhythm that moves to no beat, moves to a silent fear, a fear that the music will stop
My body is rhythm –
Looking for an opening, a scar to let this bottled up angst and terror move to the beat
Wait, what beat?
-The fast, irregular, jarring leaves my hands in the air, my mouth in my heart
I’m flailing, a lost soul in an abyss
The music is spikes, needles in my brain, insanity comes, slowly, silently, holding breath, holding life
The music is ice, freezing time, freezing me –Limbo
I pause the music and I’m still, no breath, no life, still
I press play and I’m the wind
The last beat holds my breath
I don’t want to let go
If I press replay, can I stand this, again?

IfiokAbasi Okop
©2019

Barren Mother

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I have an empty well of a belly.
My womb has known nothing but dying blood all my living years.
I have thought of no one but myself,
Fed no one but myself,
Placed no one before myself,
How do I have a womb except it was made to bear another, and yet
I have no idea what it means to pour a part of myself into another.
“A breast feeding mother?”
That’s a foreign name to me.
“A bread winning father?”
Who dares call me?
I am my own hero,
My own salt,
My own light in a shady place,
Come with me and I’ll lead you into the darkness.
I’d snuff the life out of my light because I do not want to share it.
I’m an evil already happening,
A menace waiting to be uncovered.
My tactics are new everyday
Yet my mind is old.
I am a dirty, dirty soul with a clogged up heart and a rigid body.

This is why I have come before the Rock of Ages,
Before The fire that purifies without consuming to ashes.
My tears produce more salt now than I have ever thought to produce.
I do not know when I ever took lessons from the ocean
But my ill will like waves come crushing over me.
I am caught up in my own dirt web,
Spun in my own fear.
I have come to you as a barren womb in need for a child.
I was born to be mother, now may I know a child?
I have come as a fruitless tree in its season.
As hungry fire,
I’m desperate.
As a docile branch,
I submit.
I accept defeat.
Let your rains fall on this arid land again, Lord.
I admit nothing was ever my own;
As I am left with nothing now I am reminded where I come from.
Give me one child, Yahweh ‘tis All I ask.
Surprise the quick-to-conclude with Your quick-to-deliver.
Let them know when their calling-me-barren tongues call me mother,
Let them know from every side of the flipping coin earth,
That You make the Barren Mother.

Adaobi Chiemelu
(c) 2018

Wrongly Tuned

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For quite some time now,
My ideology about you has been skewed,
I realized I have been grazing on the wrong grass, but how?
You see, I have always yearned for us to be tight, like a nut and screw,
But the only problem is I have been using a wrong tool to drive,

I wanted a star but my lines were flat,
I wanted your warmth but my body was far,
I wanted to dance to your tunes but I was tuned wrongly,

But today, after hearing what he had to say,
Rightly, I right my wrongs,
Now, I worry less about Your voice,
And more about knowing you
Come to think of it,
What kind of a son yearns for the voice of the father,
When he doesn’t even know how his words sound like,
So this morning, I seek right!

g.O.D
© 2018