OPEN LETTERS

These letters I write to you Lord are tattered
Like my heart now in pieces
And I know it sounds awkward saying this
But, I have experienced so much change
Become unpredictable like the weather
I don’t even know my mirror anymore
I am stuck in this abyss,
Now Knocked out by life, because I floored

So I need an opening or a door
To escape into your bliss
To experience those moments I once reminiscence about
But my life seems like it has gone south
The walls of my soul has come crumbling down
My crown, I now wear with a scarlet gown
And your love, I have moon walked away from

Every morning, I drown in my own tears
And at night fall I take pleasure talking about my fears
I don’t understand how I have become
A stranger to you and my self
So I can only hope my letters rise to the sky like incense
As my prayer are littered all over those papers
I hope that as I dig through your word again to unearth my goldmine
I pray that you would patiently build my faith again like a skyscraper

Keep me from being as loose as a kite blown by every wind and doctrine
Show me how to love again with great affection
So that your grace will be only song I continually play on my selection
As you teach me to walk on water again despite my imperfection
I am sure then,
That My life will finally make sense again

Isoje Victor
© 2019

Advertisements

I have chosen to be me

I AM TIRED OF TRYING TO PLEASE THOSE I CAN NEVER PLEASE
I AM TIRED OF BEING THE FALSE ME
OH YES! HATE ME IF YOU WANT
I CAN’T BE WHO I AM NOT

I AM TIRED OF MIMICKING PEOPLE
LET ME BE!
OH YES! I MIGHT NOT BE MEEK
THAT IS YOUR PROBLEM NOT MINE
I AM TIRED OF THIS FALSE ATTITUDE
I AM TIRED OF THIS ME TRYING TO PLEASE YOU

I WANT LIVE MY OWN LIFE
I MIGHT NOT BE PERFECT
I MIGHT NOT BE THE BEST
HOWEVER, I AM ME, THE ONLY ME
THE SPECIAL ME
THE ME WITH MANY FLAWS
SO I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT ME, THAT’S THE ME I HAVE CHOSEN TO BE
I HAVE CHOSEN TO BE ME

ADETHATWRITES

©2019

Barren Mother

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

The Fire of Revolution

If you truly want a revolution
You must be willing to watch your life fade
From before your own vanishing eyes

If you crave for the heavens showered
With bright red flames and blinding white light
You must care to be consumed with it

The rebirth you long for
Isn’t held in familiar bosoms
Is never at home with soft couches, tamed roses and sweet homely dinners

The freedom that’ll last forever
Is an intense joy and a harrowing pain
Stabs of rejection, and lingering loving embraces

If you truly want a revolution
You must be willing to watch your life burn
And glow

If you want a revolution that lasts forever
How about a death that scorches us into unending life?
How about Christ, Revolution Eternal?

Ikenna Nwachukwu
© 2018