Enough

“Madam, would you like anything else?”

No.

I’ve. Had. Enough.

I’m done with this junk you serve on a platter
This sorry excuse of a diet
That I swallow,
To convince myself that I’m eating
A 5 second prayer, one verse of scripture
To convince myself that I’m growing…
I’m sick of it!

I’m tired of your new recipes
Food that feeds on me.
Superficial Christianity with a dash of religion,
Truth served rare with ego stuffings.
Glamorized gospels that are far from good news
leaving me bloated, constipated
full of myself and void of Him.

And what’s with the drinks?
Sweet to taste, but leaves an unquenchable thirst
words promising but empty
incapable of answering life’s burning questions
Don’t you serve Living Water??

And why is your food so costly?
your charges are outrageous!
My relationship with God, My peace, My joy, My destiny is too high a price.

So I’m sorry Mediocre Christianity
I won’t be having any more.
I’ve. Had. Enough.

Damaris Akhigbe
(C) 2020

LETTER TO THE BRIDE OF CHRIST


Dear damsel of Honour
A few words for you that may not hurt
Your role is quite exquisite
Therefore you must be all it takes, no exceptions
A gentle heart, quite accommodating
Large enough to fit in all the lost sheep
You must know how to tend to a shoal of fishes in an unbroken net
Making dinner is a routine
Please no recipes in the wrong sauce
Only serve at tables with your hair dyed a deep red
A prove you have been sealed with the blood of the lamb
You should be an epitome of beauty
Something competitors can emulate
You need a Joseph’s store of patience and obedience
To last till the troupes waiting in line linger
Your eyes must only be on the Lord
Don’t glance elsewhere, they’re all dead mirage
His instructions must be your delight
A rebellious mind he does despise
Please fill your soul with the deepest love
Leaving no void for another to fill
Pride will leave you where the Nephilims’ are
Don’t hesitate to fall at his feet
You have to be a perfect mother
Who knows the secret remedy to all her children’s whims

Rebekah E.
© 2020

What in the world

What, in the world, does a plus sign
Have to do with Redemption?
Like, this math is flawed.
Go figure.

What, in God’s heaven, does precious gold
Have to do with street grounds?
Like a mat is, floored.
Go figure.

Dem dey go, dem dey go, mass choir.
Singing Hallelujah. Trumpeters.

Join the congregation.
Don’t miss it.
Because, flawed as it is.
The maths will begin
When this mass is ended.

And we’ll go in the Peace of Christ.
To love and serve the Lord.
Amen.

Nonso John
©2019

Darling

Darling,
You can let me see the whole you,
You can stand bare before me half dark, and still soar if you’ll just let me show you,

I know life has left you stripped of all the things you couldn’t have,
Swept you off your feet from heights you couldn’t dive,
Dared you with shocks you couldn’t nerve,
Will you let me be it’s one slave that wouldn’t serve?

I’ll defy my master and dare to die,
If you will let your hands fall by your sides,
Let not the darkness cause you lie,
Cos I’m all black and still dare to fly,

To our advantage let’s stir the light,
That years from now when we add to age,
We would look back in time a time at dusk,
When unreachable seemed the giant’s tusks,
In a moment of shame and leap at once
we shadowed the form that birthed us,
Darling.

UCtruth

© 2018