Inside, I stumble, my drunken soul, threatens to wither
Breathless, my eyes I close, life’s puzzles I dither
On a singing clock, blankly, I plant my naked stare
Its shouting voice, gives my closed ears a sweet scare
Ooh how rocky is my tour with no souvenir to show!
If everything takes time, why mine forever slow?
On a crying bed, I whisper, shouting to my sinking self
My thoughts, tuneless as a musician’s forgotten clef
On a calendar, my eyes meander, on a number, they rest
For the ordained, time is ripe, for harvest, at its best
Sighs and yawns I drink, my soul, feeding on wonder…
Questioning why the waiting must be weighty and longer
Guessing, in vain, why life hasn't plucked my chord
Blaming angels whose favors I have forever failed to afford
Then on my side, I turn, seducing my eyes to take a look…
My hands, hopelessly, I stretch, and behold…I find a Holy Book
At peace I feel, on my chest, my Bible, my Quran, I hold
Now I know, I have to hold on....I have to be bold
Copyright © 2010 Meshack Sewe
(Trials & Hope......My personal journey to personal reflections....and personal reconciliation...)
