Your mercy still stand even when life shake me like generator wey no get fuel and when storm raise voice like market women, Your peace calm am, even JBL speakers no loud reach this truth.
I don waka inside fire, yet Your grace na the forth man for that furnace. Blessings wey full my hand, na only your fingerprint fit produce am.
My past be wan dey try drag me back like conductor wey no get change, but the cross sharpaly calm am down.
As your nails write my freedom na so your blood sign am like court truth. For heaven courtroom, Jesus stand gidigba which living proof reach that one Abeg
Him love no dey reduce; na so every trial dey shrink like cloth wey see hot water. Even when darkness wan argue, Your light flash am like police for check point, proof wey no dey whine.
When fear dey whisper like thief for backyard, Your Word shout “who goes you!” back.
I dey wake every day because Your covenant cover me like aluminium zinc for rainy roof. And my life? The testimony loud gan, na megaphone wey go always shout: God’s love go always be the final proof.
UbdaPoet
©2025
Tag: Shrink
INTIMACY OF TRUTH
He asks why I shrink
My mind conjures letters into words
Envelopes but unable to post it
The inefficiency of the post office may misplace it
Misplace it with reactions from cross-purposes
For avoidable protocol of tracing words to letters I shrink
He says I should try him
But I know the end from the beginning
I am expected to be saintly
With perhaps a pardonable trace of sinfulness
Because he supposedly understands I’m human
I can’t determine which of my sinfulness he considers pardonable
So I don’t try him
I quiver at my imaginations
My mind is a roller coaster of horror
The gate of Hades
For his safety, there is no access
No actual intimacy
Let it be closed to family and friends
Entertaining guests will be at the veranda
The explosion of bodies in hot passion is still not intimacy without truth
He could recognize the members of my body in the dark;
Be familiar with the turns, corners
Nooks, crannies, depths and heights of my body
We could surf through a tsunami with goose pimples as evidence
And still not achieve intimacy
My hunger for intimacy deepens
I search and find the one able
To hear my filthy and wretched truth
The one who sees past my truth
And introduced his truth which is grace
Alas, I give up my keys and let him in
I let out fires I shamefully quenched
The intimacy of truth cannot be afforded by humans
But the one already paid
– ChyD
© 2019
