Tag: Heal

Forgive!

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Forgive when you are broken

Forgive when you are numb

Forgive when you are forgotten

Forgive when you heal

Forgive because bitterness is a cage

Not for the offender nor the offense but the offended

Forgive because the numbness limits your progress

The hurt puts you in chains

Forgive because it scares away the little foxes

Forgive so that your vine stays healthy

Forgive because you have been instructed

Forgive because it’s a command

A commandment from your owner
He knows the danger you face when you don’t forgive

Forgive because it heals your body and His body

Forgive!

Hannah DGinus
©2026

The issue of blood

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Nobody can convince me otherwise,
I know what it feels like to be made hole.

Ravaged me from the inside out,
Endless days smeared into unending nights,
Time past, time in the future, all meant nothing.
I only knew of the present,
And that gift was consistently leaking.

I was broken cistern.
But blood and not water poured.

So I know exactly what it feels like to be made whole.

Potter’s will.
That all men be saved and come to the knowledge of He who hangs planets on nothing.
Who hanged on wood for nothing,
Not Glory, not a fee, not to make little toys on a playset of he.

For nothing, but me.
But you.

For when He saw me sprawled like filthy linen on dirty floor.
Shaky hands trampled upon by eager legs.
Reaching, stretching, trying to be good enough.

Trying to meet the mark. Perfection seemed always just.
Within rich but condemned to be poor
Maybe I’ll one day become. Servant.
Looked upon.
Fed by those almighty crumbs.
That was when this son of a gun shut me up, and said I was good enough.

He saw me and then He bled.
Tasting death in my stead.
It was then I realized that He never even saw me
But He looked upon Himself instead.
For all He did was become me,
Sickly held in place by nails.
Dangling lifeless. Dangling.

Lifeless.
Heaving my last breath.
He reached for me.

One sacrifice that thickened the plot.

For when the hem of His garment felt for my hands,
It ceased.

Goats, rams, doves, pigeons.
And every other issue of blood.

ucTRUTH
©2026

Tong of Tongues

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Fluttering wings when I ratatatata
Holy Ammo and a spoken Katana
Shuriken made of rhema and light
Regen made of life more abundant

Hey IK,
We used to run to altars to alter the courses of curses we nursed
But now we are vendors of miracles, growing and growing others
Faith reimbursed,
Charge it to my Christ card
We conquered in him
We tell it in hymns
And in our seconds and how we second him like second to none

When have we won?
When we have obeyed the word
The burden is light, and he made us lamps
I’m writing God poems until I’m a Gramps
It’s funny how people still gather in camps
With O² in lungs and time on their hands
To set up a tower and push evil back
All without getting God’s nod to attack
Fluttering wings when I ratatatata
Holy Ammo and a spoken Katana
Shuriken rain made of rhema and light
Resurrection at the sound of life more abundant

Abundant

Stop in the street just to whisper I love you
Secret messages and missions we do
Trek small then we take a canoe
Silence since you might say some more
Soaked in your discernment, I’m still
Savor each spot I was destined to heal
Surrealest of trips and the stories are real
Serving The Lord is the better deal
Serving The Lord is always the better deal

Godzniel
©2026

A tale of compassion and faith

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Penspeak Communities across Nigeria have recently taken up Freestyle Fridays hosted by The Godzniel. This is a collection of poems from Penspeak Community UNEC freestyles in January 2025.

From the watchtower, Iruoma cried out:

I am compassion, a gentle breeze
That calms a raging soul and quiets pain to freeze
I run in obscurity, yet understanding I seek
To heal a silent wound that mouth can’t utter

Like flower that blooms in desert oasis
So am I, a savour taste to the broken soul
I’m a badge of mercy, worn by one who’s torn
An irresistible gentle word, that calms a storm

I see beyond the fist, the anger and pain
And serve a feast of kindness, to wash the heart’s deep stain
I’m a dose of hope, that keeps each day aglow
A beacon of light, in the darkest place I go

I am compassion, I offer listening ears
Pay attention and owe no debt to negligence
I am the greatest gift to humanity
The loudest voice of love
I walk enduring miles
Leaving trails of smiles

Taking the wheel again, Iruoma launched:

With heart swift and low on  paths unknown
I plead to listen to the quiet whisper, that binds me whole
With convictions strong on choices made

I plead to heed the persistent voice of truth
With barns so enriched, and yards full of glittering gold
I pray to harvest, with mind full of sight

To sift grain from chaff, and separate truth from false
And with each step to embark, a journey of uncertainty
I pledge to trust the gentle guide

For He’s the spirit of the divine, with mysteries to unveil
He grants a sense of immortality, in the stillness, a peaceful knowing of secrets untold.
And moments to disobey in doubt, are times to will in regret

Not wanting the momentum to die out, Neche Goodnews took the baton on the relay:

 “Wish upon a shooting star and make your wish come true”
Senior said to me as we stared at the night sky
“So, make the wish”, he said to me as I was beholding the awe of the star littered sky
I close my eyes and make my wish and open my eyes into the present
A decade had gone by but I still reminisce the days gone by
I fasten up my tie while facing the mirror

What a decade it has been
Peril and strife fought their way into my world but I persevered
The psychological breaks and lapses chipped away at my very soul but I didn’t derange
As I go towards my bag, a thought enters my mind and a smile is found on my face
“Your wish is profound and pure, its impact, ground shaking, all I might not see it actualised but I can behold its potential”
Senior said to me, that was one of our last conversations
“It’s no time to slack, the world will soon be in awe”
I say as I take my bag and leave my place

People see the outcome of reality
I behold a future of possibilities
My wish would ensure that
Until then, I carry on

See you next month!

Authors:
Iruoma
Neche Goodnews

Ode to Poetry

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Oh poetry, art of language divine,
With words that flow, in meter and rhyme,
You paint a picture with each verse and line,
A tapestry woven, with thought so fine.

You give voice to what lies in the heart,
Emotions raw, made into art,
With rhythm and sound, you play your part,
To heal and comfort, from the start.

You take us on journeys to far off lands,
To meet characters, in your written hands,
You let us feel what it’s like to stand,
In someone else’s shoes, and understand.

Poetry, you challenge and inspire,
With truth and beauty, you never tire,
A spark that ignites, with a single fire,
Bringing wonder to all, higher and higher.

So here’s to you,
dear poetry, we sing,
With each word,
our hearts take flight
and wing,
With you, we soar, our spirits take wing,
You are the soul of language, the art it brings.

Tolulope Amao
© 2023

Body Count

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I like God
Heal.
Same intentions against the devil and his ant hill.
When we see ailments ping a body down to zero
We pong and ten is what the healing scores


Your real you is not you
Body bags,
Dead men call, we are here for the body count
Lined like stomach walls, we were built to digest em all
Pand or epid we emic all
I mean we emit all
Light is how we resist, dull
Sick is what we kick out
Polio
Sons of the most H, H for holy o!!!

UC Truth
©2021

Box

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How do you keep the voices within silent?
How do you keep these storms of insecurities from surfacing ?
How do you unbox yourself?
Set free from all the labels and tags set by the world..

Am I bound to these stereotypes as Christian?
If God created me differently,
Then why do I need to fit my person into a genre,
Must I lock put emotions because I was born a man?
Never to shine on another’s face,
Or heal my neighbour’s heart

My heart is dense from my thoughts a hole, drilled by confusion,
How do I keep these emotions from leaking?
Before I drown and become another zombie,
A walking dead; no emotions no feelings,
Just another man trying to fit in,
Another statistics,
Somebody should tell me, please,
What does it mean to be Masculine?

Adeleye Olaoye
©2021

Dear Black Child

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Dear black child, You will heal
Heal from the scars buried 6 feet
Deep within the pores of your skin
Wounds that festered on your emotions
And shattered your heart into a million pieces
Now your heart is nothing but a broken glass
Learning how to reflect your wholeness
The image of a girl that once loved

Centuries from now,
When the dust is shaped from your bones,
History will tell a tale of courage,
Of a woman who pulled her weight,
Against the odds clawed around her neck,
How from ashes and burning embers
Built an Empire with and sweat,

Your bones will be a blueprint,
A speck of dust igniting generations,
A gene of women who don’t bend to raging winds,
History will tell a tale of a Woman,
A Warrior emerging from within you,
How you faced your fears,
And became a woman emerging,
An open letter when they unearth you,

A testament of weathering storms,
Taking down giants with your love,
You are a promise of resurrection,
Reminding them that red sea parted in your views,
And when you whispered your last breath,
The night spoke the language of love,
Living blueprints in our heart,

Dear Black child,
You are a miracle folded in the form of a woman,
A woman becoming, learning the intricate language of love,
You were born for this sort of heavy lifting,
You were born a part saint, a part warrior,
And you have emerged the Genesis
Of a new breed of women,
A linkage of goddesses

Dear black child,
You are a goddess,
An ancient scripture,
A prophecy lies in your heartbeat,
This revelation is nestled in your palms;
Truly, greatness lies in your loins!
Live it! Breathe it!


Olaoye Adeleye
(C) 2021.