Forty Days

Forty Days

Forty days since you passed,

Feels you'll shout out my name.

Where you are, now, I want to be,

A world of gold cannot buy an embrace.

They say its for mourning, 

These forty that went by,

A day like a lifetime.

Are these forty enough,

To mourn you?

Or will my heart cease to pain,

When tomorrow's sun shines?

Will I not hear the silence deafening?

Will I not crave another fight?

Its written that death has lost its sting,

For you walked your walk in God.
And to be where you are,
I will need to be more like you.
A man of steel.
A man who loved his family,
Giving up the world for it.
A man who worked hard, doing his part,
Leaving the blessings to God's will.
To be like you is a tough ask.
You did it,
And so shall I,
For you are in me,
Your offspring.
And a fighter like you am I.
Look, words like you I write,
And obviously, you were better,
My man of steel!
I think at peace am I knowing,
You are where you deserve to be!

From The Cradle To This Moment!

From The Cradle To This Moment!

You have formed me in my mother's womb,

My pieces you have put together.

Many times have I rejected You,

Yet Your Love always abounds.

These sinful lips and hands,

Speak and write to praise You,

Lord, God Almighty,

My Father, my Creator, my Refuge.

You are The One, The Only One,

Who has understood this child.

And provided more than his needs,

Things he did not deserve.
From the jaws of death have You rescued me!
All words fall short of praise,
Immeasurable is Your Greatness!
O Omnipotent! God of my father,
Bless me as you blessed him.
O YHWH! The Provider of my mother,
Love me as you love her!
You have lit up my path in the darkness,
Your Hands engulf me from harm.
Guide me, O Great Teacher,
As You have from the cradle to this moment,
And according to Your love, Your Promises,
Till I see Your Glory!

Whisper!

Whisper!

Words, I am told have power.

Life, they can give.

Words they say, act as a balm,

On wounds that have never healed.

It is just these words that I offer to you,

O Princess.

They are of hope and love.

Of peace and tranquility.

Of solitude with you.

Of my resolve till the end.

Of you, my sanctuary.

They say you are my beacon,

My liniment for the pains that run deep into my bones.

So, my love,

Use them too.

Even if you just whipser them,

On the flesh above my chest,

They will empower my dried heart,

And breathe a new flow into my veins.

The screaming from my bones,

Shall die out in your whisper.

Whisper them, my love,

The words I want to hear.

Let the magic of your voice,

Control my being.

Whipser my love, whisper your love for me!

Do You....

Do You....

Do you think of silence as arrogance?

Could it not be that I am lowly?

Do You not see, O royal one?

 I think myself not worthy of you.

Has a damsel, rich in all, ever touched a pauper?

Does the river ever flow upward?

You, my beloved, should be adored,

For your beauty that is inside,

Makes your face glow.

It puts the goddesses to shame.
Do you know that I fear,
Of being abnegated of your love.
Do you know that you are impeccable,
And an outcast am I?
Do you know that you are free to fly,
And chained am I by my monsters.
Do you not know my sweet love,
There is no match of angels and demons.
Yet if you see it befitting,
Let me be by your side.
Till I breathe my last,
I shall obey your wishes,
And never let a frown scar your beauty.
I shall adore your beauty,
I shall be in awe of the thoughts in your mind,
And how the Universe sways to them.

I See Her

I See Her

A few boats I see in the storm,
As I  struggle to hold onto the plank.
I see her, my friend of new and old.
With her offspring clinging to her,
She covers them inside her wings.
This stormy sea tosses them about,
And leaves some scars on her being.
Quickly, she covers them with her feathers.
I see her stand and steady her vessel.
Isolated by the storm,
 From the boats that were with hers,
She glances at me.
Oh how I wish to assist her,
The one whom I have looked up to.
An energy unmatched has she in her.
A philosophy of her own.
Her smile reassures me,
She will guide it to the shore.
In awe am I of her strength,
 Her character, her intelligence.
I see her now, from my plank,
 Her beauty still adorns her.
Her seeds now stretching out their roots,
Trying to strengthen themselves, to bear fruit.
She has raised them well!
An angel comes and whispers,
"The Creator loves her and the children,
He wanted the world to be,
In awe of her, to learn from her.
His light will shine on them forevermore."
I still wish I was there to assist her,
To be a part of her wonderful story.
I wish her well.
May she be a sun,
In the lives of those around her.
Until we meet again my friend,
For through a storm,
I still have to go.

What If?

What If?

What if the stars do not sparkle anymore?
Will there still be a milky way?
What if the flowers do not emanate their sweet scent?
Will I still smell those taken from me?
What if the sun warms us no more?
Will we be as cold hearted?
What if the moon ceases to guide our ships home?
Will we set our lives a sail?
What if the rains refuse to fall on us?
Will our thirsts be unquenched?
What if the clouds stop to give us shade?
Will we burn in hatred?
What if the rivers deny to flow?
Will there be enough to fill ourselves?
What if the ground does not produce for us?
Will a desolation our lives be?
What if we do not hold close the rearers of our lives?
What if there are deeds towards them undone?
What if there are words between families left unspoken?
Will there be not a while longer for professing our love for them?
What if she becomes the better half to someone else?
Will I be collecting my pieces again?
What if there were no angels?
Would there be demons like I?
And what if, just what if, there was no God?

Will It?

Will It?

Yes my friends, tis another year.

Another sign of maturity.

And questions run galore in my head.

Will it be another year?

Will it be filled with the same hatred?

Will it have the bloodshed of the year past?

Will it still be resolved to be better and yet not?

Will it be full of apprehensions and inhibitions?

Will it be overflowing with disgust for less privileged?

Will it be with news of planes missing?

Will it be with school children massacred? 

Will it be another without thought?

Will it be a year of intolerance like before?

Will it be you and I a pococurante?

Will it be I writing another the year next?

Will it be you and I ameliorant?
Will it be her and I? 

Will it be, like it should, a year submissive to God?