“Come to Me, all you who labor & are heavily laden, and I will give you rest.”
-Matthew 11: 28
My lips are
Filled in with filth
& alcohol, the temple through which
I echoed his testimony is no more.
I sprawl upon
a cold floor with my back,
Heavy as granite with a baggage
Of sins that clung on it.
I am seeking a
River, deeper than my tears
To ease my self & cleanse/my
Soul of putrefaction.
I need one. For I — an
Unreasonable one who forsook all,
Seeks one now with contrition.
Knowing I need to see him,
Without a blemished garment,
By the testament of the cross & his blood,
my soul craves & cries to be healed.
MEETING WITH DEATH
I soared deep in my imagination,
It took me steps to find the death nation.
It sieved me patience to find him,
Filling in his breaths in a nether realm
But I died not but sought time with death
“Seems I find you in the pink of health”
“Ok death I want to inquire of your state
Why are you so wicked to mankind?”
“No, it’s the false man’s perception my kind,
I have an elder brother named life,
I came by your disobedience
We were incepted by the divine one
But we work for all hands in one”
Then said to me “who are you,
That you are possessed with immense power”
“No, I do not I am weaker,”
“I am a servant of time and purpose
Every man was born with a purpose.
A wasted life is one purpose unfilled
Before he is being healed”
” even a dead new baby?”
“Even a young maiden and old lady,
I tried Christ in his primitive as assigned
But the only one my access denied
One time in the pink of health,
Another time Victor over death
I come to meet men ways assigned”
“But you send a shiver down their spine?”
“It is not a pleasure of me to blood dine”
Their thinking makes me look so
That’s my appearance is this so
I will come for you as assigned
But it pleases Omega to see your destiny fulfilled”
“Then how do I get my victory?”
“Christ is best written in your history
And he who has known the father
Has no fear of death to further,
It sorrows me I am a messenger even to me
Bye! don’t let meet you unfulfilled”
The memory in me I kept
Akin-ademola Emmanuel (Apostle of words) is a gifted poet, journalist, Short stories’ writer, budding playwright and a student activist. His works have appeared in silent sound magazine, communicators league, and elsewhere. He believes in deft power of words and uses them to purge souls of depression, conceptual malaise and mediocrity . He writes from Ondo city in Ondo state Nigeria.