Tag: Cancer

FALLEN AT HIS FEET

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I carry no fear on my shoulders
I have saved no teardrop to shed
I have left every iota of worries

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Worries? They have no rooms in me for rent
Harmony, peace and joy cram the whole story
Every other issue is backstory

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Backstory is a tale of yesterday
I spend time now swimming in God’s love
Waves of pain, illness and disease are

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Disease of the Egyptians shall not know me by name
Cancer is a raging empty threat
Hunger and starvation their powers rid

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Rid of gory garments and pierced sides
Christ rose in glory with fierce strides
Armed soldiers strapped with sleep

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Sleep in the arms of a loving mother
Tomorrow the fever with shudder
Because all the bugs in a million march lie

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

March, march on Christian soldier
Relieved of every burdensome weight
Tomorrow is certain, today is fixed, last night is
Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Rebekah E.
© 2020

WE, THE INDEPENDENT ONES

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We are they that ride on the waves,
Of ideas, beautiful manifestos of the 50s,
The very spittle that our mother told us if dried before the 60s,
Our navels would rot,

We are the child born in lies,
A fatherless child of 250 fathers,
A child that reminds our mother of this rape called amalgamation,
The child who is half of everything,
Whose strength should be in being everything,
Yet one thing rules: the cancer of corruption,

We are this child in dependence,
To the blind, senseless man that knew how we were delivered from,
This very deep inferno between our mother’s leg,
We encourage ourselves with hopes in things,
Things our reality tells us can never be,
We are married to Religion,
These new Masters that promise us mansions and virgins when we,
Like the worms, cringe and bow out of this stage,

We are hungry,
Milk and honey we dare not wish for,
Our elder brothers eat honey,
They told us to pray,
If we dared stared too long into his plate, he would slay,
The nascent dream we have,

We are independent,
Masters of our own,
Slaves to our elder brothers,
Who constantly tell us that the rudders will be ours one day,
Yet make their sons our master when,
Need be…..
Happy Independence Day.

Chukwu Simeon Chidiebere
© 2018