What to pray about

Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

On this particular day, March the 26th, 2021; the topic was “What to pray about”. There was silence in the large Christapoet group, apart from my own prattling about the topic of the day and my reason for choosing it. This sort of silence is kinda normal. But at 8:28pm… Hanna Azubuike wrote:

Pray about your heart to God
Pray about your art to God
Pray about your mine to God
Pray about your gold to God
Pray about your genes to God
Pray about your offspring to God
There would always be a reason, so pray without ceasing

And at 8:35pm, UC Truth retorted:

Pray your desires
My teacher once said
When you feel it you probably should say it
To God

So I come bare when I pray
When I pray I come bare
Stripped of all what God should not hear
I come with screams and silent
I come with words and rhymes like a poet
I come with sobs too
And mutters too

I’ve prayed about the mansions and the gutters too

I don’t know what you know about what to do when you come to pray
But I’ll never want to keep from God
An atom of what I really wanted to say to him today

Yeah. The two of them wrote from somewhere real. You see, sometimes, a topic touches you or reflects your current dilemma or just provides an opportunity for you to say something…

Like what Olufunke Ajegbomogun said at 8:44pm.

We don’t want to bother God
Says man made of mud
So we bottle up what we ought not
Leaving our mind in knots
You receive not for you ask not
What to pray about,” You say?
All things my brother, so you don’t become a prey
Everything my sister, on every blessed day
So Unfriend anxiety
Cast away it’s ray
Put on Christ’s piety
Your armour of faith
Whatever it is
Grand or small
Possible or impossible
Serious or minor
Pray about them all
Yes! In all things by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving…
So go on your knees
Lift up those hands
Put your hands together
Lie down flat on your tummy
Stand on your feet
Sit on the floor
Whichever position you choose, just shut out the noise
Surrender all
Cast it to God
Receive His rod
Believe it’s done
Make a loud noise
Wait till it comes

Some of these pieces and sessions, I remember like…an old friend. Some are like a stranger that has been sent to instruct me. I didn’t write anything, nor did anyone else, that night. It was all like a long whisper telling us “what to pray about”.

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Hanna Azubuike
UC Truth
Olufunke Ajegbomogun

IN ALL THINGS?

We don’t want to bother God
Says man made of mud
So we bottle up what we ought not
Leaving our mind in knots
You receive not for you ask not
What to pray about you say?
All things my brother, so you don’t become a prey
Everything my sister, on every blessed day
So Unfriend anxiety
Cast away its ray
Put on Christ’s piety
And your armor of faith
Whatever it is
Grand or small
Possible, impossible
Serious or minor
Pray about them all
Yes! In all things by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving…
So go on your knees
Lift up those hands
Put your hands together
Lie flat on your tummy
Stand on your feet
Sit on the floor
Whichever position you choose, just shut out the noise
Surrender all
Cast it to God
Receive His rod
Believe it’s done
Make a loud noise
Wait till it comes

Ajegbomogun Olufunke
©2021

Rape

I didn’t think he would
No!
He was my brother
I didn’t think he would leave me with this wound
He was my blood

I should have known
From the way he looked at me
From the way he often stared at me
I should have gotten the message
The moment he closed the door to the passage

Don’t ask me what I was doing in his room
Dad sent me there
He sent me to serve him
Dad didn’t know his son was a forceful defiling monster

His sick son,
A strong brutal rapist

Would I recover?
The evil touch,
The pains,all to his gain
Was there any gain???

My Body…
Broken beyond repairs
My mind…
Did he rape my mind too?
Why can’t I forget?

The shots of whiskey hasn’t been helping
The cigarettes only makes me remember
Remember how I struggled
How I begged
I can’t forget how he pushed me out of his room
To an untimely doom

Teach your sons to flee!
Tell them the urge won’t kill
Teach them to respect a woman
Tell them No means No
Make them aware of consent

Teach your daughters to speak out
Let them confide in you
Don’t let them walk through life like this worthless broken girl before you.

– Jemima Joseph
(c) 2021


Hello Ladies

They asked us out after the age we intended to marry
They begged us to wait until they were stable before we become soul mates.
Our hearts desires to be sisters to our daughters and sons have been crushed
How would our offspring understand us?
We’re left with the gate of loneliness when they leave or when he dies as the case may be.
But this was not how it was written…
They waited together and got their promise
Her clock got better with age even after menopause
She died before him and he was never lonely
So when God is on your matter it becomes an adage
It would always be done deal as long as God is on gear too.

Kapiché?

Azubike Hannah
© 2019

The Most beautiful Girl- Part 2

Years pass and she remains a sister to me
A perfect relationship divorce can’t sever
There is no ‘more‘ to want
Her love is complete and I am satisfied
Until the 99th night she passed at my house
She wakes at midnight to find my fingers on her breast
With a push from her I land on the floor
On getting up I see the hurt and unbelief in her eyes as tears roll down her cheeks
There is no explanation to her or myself of my actions
No words are exchanged
The wait for dawn is like waiting for Jesus’ second coming
I curl on the floor while she clutches herself tightly on the bed with occasional sniffs
I die a thousand death in a thousand ways, all by suicide
She leaves as morning comes
Apologies are meant for explainable crimes, not inconceivable ones
This crime should not be apologized for nor forgiven
A lot of water pass under the bridge and today I cry;
I cry because she visits last week and wraps me in a hug
We go for walks and she leans on me like old times
Like I didn’t abuse her
She has a golden heart but the most I expect are patches;
A hand sewn cloth thread with caution
She disappoints me with total abandonment and oblivion of the past
I cry for I don’t deserve her yet I have her
Her name is Grace

ChyD
© 2019