THE MERCY THAT BROKE ME

I was Confused, I knew my acts were wrong
but worst, I was caught
and no excuse was permitted
my execution was at hand
knowing what’s at stake
I couldn’t stop tears from flowing even If I tried
I was among they that accused me
hand in hand with the Law
I brutally slit my soul and cried as I bled

Behind, around and within me stood my accusers
yelling and jeering at me
the sounds of their voices aching my heart and soul
I was pushed with sticks from behind and pulled violently by the law
my wrists bound with its ropes tightly knotted
sighs of agony escaped through my clenched teeth as I was pulled
couldn’t shut my ears to the scorns and insults
I was paraded naked for them to laugh at and spit on
those who had been with me in the act condemned me even more
my sin was announced as we moved through the streets
the voices of those behind, around and within me hand in hand with the law accused me
They brutally slit my soul and watched me bleed

As we approached the temple
I could see him faintly through my tears-blurred vision
I had heard of him but
the words he said were too good to be true
My accusers hated his guts
though they’re powerless against it
it was his words against their world
they hated him more because he Claimed to be The MESSIAH
His name was and still is Jesus Christ
each time I saw Him teaching the multitude
I would wondered if he saw through me
and what he would say to me if we ever had an encounter
I was called out of reminiscence by the voices of my accusers
accounting my sins before Him as they eagerly await His judgment
while they stood relaying my sins before him
I bent down my head in shame and tears filled my eye
He bent down likewise and started writing something on the ground
which made it obvious, he wasn’t interested in all the accusations placed before him
he stood up only to vindicate me from my outward accusers with these words:
“He who is without sin among you should cast the first stone”
Surprisingly, They were honest enough to admit none is sinless
As they dropped my case along side their stones and stepped away
He stood up knowing I still accused me with support from the law
He said, “Where are your accusers, hath no one condemn you?”
I replied rather soulful “No one”
as the knowing hit me that I was standing alone
then he vindicated Me from myself and from the law
saying; “even I do not condemn you… go and Sin no more”

Just like that! I wondered
I was broken inside, not by fear but by Love
He didn’t even look at me with judgments in his eyes
but with love
I felt like a child in the warmth of a Father embrace
He gave me hope
I knew then Jesus loved me regardless of what I had done
There I decided that I was never going back to shame,
for the love is strong enough to restrain me
I knew that I would no longer be accused and condemned
Not by any man, not by the Law, not by me
Because Jesus Himself had told me EVEN I, DO NOT CONDEMN YOU
Hand in hand with God’s Love, The Grace of JESUS has set me free
Tended my wounded soul and watched me spring up to life in Christ
Hallelujah!

PearlyThoughts
©2021

The Bleeding Heart

The blood she shed was all her own.
She’d found no way to staunch the flow
For twelve long years.
The cost to her in doctors’ care
Was nothing to her shame and her enormous fears.
Unclean and thus untouchable
She knew she’d live and die alone in blood and tears.

The world had turned its back on her
And all she saw and all she touched was tinged with red.
Denied the right to worship God,
Denied the Temple courts by law, her soul was dead.
Denied all comfort, love of friends
And touch of man, she kept alone her blood-stained bed.

Her last hope lay in this new man,
But with her touch she’d make him, too, unclean, outcast.
And should she even hope for help?
Of all the people God might heal she was the last.
For it was God who sent the curse,
The blood and shame, the loneliness, through Laws He passed.

In spite of all these doubts and fears,
Mistrust of God, she took her chance – a touch unseen.
Then, Jesus, the untainted, changed the Law to Love.
Her world became new, fresh and green.

The blood He shed was all his own,
And flowing down it covered her and washed her clean.

Pamela Urfer
© 2021

Mary’s Cross

Scandal has tingled the villagers’ ears
And engendered the gossip mother fears.
I find her, alone, dissolved in tears
From what she’s heard in the marketplace.

When I go for water, my ears start burning,
As I shop for fish, my feet start turning
To run, but I’m gradually learning
That their hisses can’t rob me of God’s grace.

They tell my father it’s a shame.
They tell my mother she’s to blame.
They whisper to others that I’m a stain
On the high reputation of this godly place.

A swollen belly can’t be hid
Nor the depths of disgrace into which I’ve slid.
Next, my marriage vows they’ll try to forbid
And work to see me exiled from this place.

In the angel’s words it was God I heard
He’s wiser than the scoldings of this world.
I’m told if I faithfully follow His word
I’ll hold the Creator of all time and space
In my arms.

Pamela Urfer
© 2021

Mum’s The Word

As I looked up at the assailant
Tears freely flowing like water
With each thrust, he took a bit of my soul.
Something broke, shattered in me
Then he said, “Mum’s the word”

Looked at them, the ones who loved me,
I want to tell them everything I felt
But imagining the disappointment and shame I would bring,
I told myself, “Mum’s the word”

I looked down, this time I’m on top
My eyes dim, my soul dark
I did to another what was done to me
And I said, “Mum’s the word”

I looked down at the weapon
That would keep me forever mum
I sighed and wished
Wished I hadn’t kept mum…

Emenike Chinwendu Victoria
© 2020

Hope

Look through the pixel of faith
Cos light travels in this path
Live on and labour through
Make pictures amidst tears
Of unforgotten struggle and be happy
Dream amidst fears

Draw near the place where once you were redeemed
Relent not on the seasons that go by
Not on morning, noon and night
But give thanks always
For everything works together for good

Hold Love’s hand and don’t be in haste
Walk with Grace and don’t make a waste
For work without hope
Draws effort into a sieve
And hope without work cannot live

But to assure you..
There is hope in the hopelessness
Of HOPE – Hold Onto Purpose Eternally
That after To-day
There will always be a day..

Davidgospel
© 2020

In Sickness

You were supposed to have his back,
Be his anti-body in this sinful world,
He broke the tablets of our hearts,
When he left us for you,
You had him looking above this cloud,
This cloud of flaws hovering over humans,
You were his mentor; a star guiding him into this Perfect life,
A view obscured and inverted to our hearts,
But a clear and perfect reflection to him,

He never for once ignored your call,
Remember when he housed you with his sisters; Mary and Martha,
He never for once judged and questioned you,
But when he needed you,
You were far from home,
You could have used one of your tricks,
To race against time and space,
But you didn’t, instead, you chose your work over him,
I guess he was always a second choice,
A means to an end; the path to our hearts,

Four days! He has been dead,
This tomb now clothes his lifeless body,
The passage to the afterlife,
And here you come with your twelve,
Wearing sad faces and tears,
Like a kid who lost his candy,
If only the news of his sickness,
Had quickened your feet,
To behold your friend on his sickbed,
Maybe he would have seen another sunset,
Maybe I would have felt his lips on my forehead,
Maybe his Aunt would embraced his warmth one last time,
Just enough for us to bid him farewell,
But you abandoned him,
You broke your vows,
The communion of promises you both shared with one another,
Sleep on Lazarus,
Your friend, Jesus is here,
To say goodbye to his dear friend,
Whom in sickness, he abandoned!

Olaoye Adeleye
(C) 2020

Take My Hands Instead

One pill…
Two pills…
Three pills…
And another…take my hands.

Isn’t that a perfect metaphor for how you go bananas, dig your feet into those coloured clips, stain your teeth with the feel, stain your fill with the filth, and assume the other filths fade?

Isn’t that how it makes you feel? The peel? No?

Then talk to me.

I want to hear it…take my hands.

This time, get high on the drug of my attention, snort on my love and exhale passion, and if clasping my hands will help, take them, let the tension go.

At first I didn’t listen because I thought it wasn’t you speaking. Your liver called out to me, your lungs did too, your strained heart cried out to me, I heard a million tears fall from your triggered body.

I don’t know and I probably won’t understand you. But I know that nobody puts a gun at his throat and expects to survive.

Give me the gun, and take my hands.
Dear Amanda

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
D. Niel Quchi
© 2020