His Will, My Will

I love my freedom, it is my human right
Nobody can take it from me – they mutter
This attitude to life resonates “It does not matter”
Bringing in its wake much piercings and hurt

The human will though a beauty to behold,
Allows us to be who we want to be unperturbed
And to do what we want to do- undisturbed
Left unchecked, wounds multitudes untold

Truly, the world is filled with so many evils
Emanating from some freedom gone wild
Evils perpetrated by men of consciences-seared
Leaves behind so much sorrow and ills

Over 2000 years ago, someone thought of himself less
King of kings and Lord of all came visiting, cloaked in humility
Left his domain, came to our wicked world proclaiming liberty
Freedom from sin, replaced with dominion previously lost

When I placed my faith in Jesus, he gave me power over sin
His will now reigns supreme above my freedom- so cherished
Now I can say yes to my father’s revealed will – as my savior did
Making my world safer, brighter than it had earlier been

Ajegbomogun Olufunke
© 2020

These Knees

On these knees,
My plans and pleas are placed on the infallible Rock of ages
Unswayed like trees in a tropical breeze
For I have insight and wisdom beyond the sages.

On these knees, by this night stand
I gain the strength to stand tough ordeals
Or deal with life when seemingly dealt a bad hand
For the deck is in my favor even when it’s not ideal.

On these knees, worries fall and faith rise
As the prayer call is heard and heed in the hidden.
Situations change faster than light meet the eyes
As angels rush to do my bidding.

On these knees, with these ears
His voice and will are made plain
There are no worries, there are no fears
For the lord risen from the cross he was slain.

Ini Brown
© 2020

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

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