There is a frightening silence that comes after the rain A time when mere mortals are forced to accept their insignificance in comparison to God A time of reflection When you are left with all the broken pieces left from the last storm that broke you You are left to pick the pieces Unaware of how to fit it all together You go to the one who knows Who can help solve this battlefield of a body you’ve been left with You wait And pray And wait With no answer You turn to the one who you’ve been left with Yourself But even on days like this It isn’t enough You pray again But this time you hear a soft whisper “The answer has always been in the wait” So you wait Reminded that you are just mere mortal and your faith lies in the hands of God Steph I
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Can God see you where you are now? Are you pouring new wine into old skin? Are you falling away as the leaves do during this time? Are you crumbling from human touch? Does it feel like December is far too close? Is everything tearing away at the seams? Is your life exactly what I told you it would be? Do I feel like a long time ago? Temi F This,
even this, won't last. Bereavement is impatient with it's arrival. You wait on the first step to the library, dark shadows cast upon you from the passerby, you don't bother putting your hair behind your ears because you don't have the type of hair that would stay. You look up, you're waiting for a sign. A plane to fall from the sky, to wreck havoc, to cause mischief. Or maybe something more subtle, a bird. A bird that flies mysteriously low, too close to earth, too close to human kind. Perhaps something on the inside, like your lungs, too tired to hold air, too weak to expand. You leave the step, your legs are strong and they carry you far. Till you arrive at your mind, too small to trust God, too fickle to know that you are permanent. Trouble not your heart to despair. This, even this, is eternal. Temi.F I trust in the Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
But the Love of God doesn't numb my lust, Maybe because I'm lost, Unable to clasp onto the notion of Him being enough, His plan is too robust and unfathomable to the young, Old soul but I know enough to not be called dumb, I know enough to know I know nothing, I know what I shouldn't like the ecstasy of busting a nut, Let me come humbly to my knees Lord almighty release me from my vices, Remove the price on my head, hard to look straight into the eyes of the holy when I'm still salty about the spices that burnt me. Shackled by juvenile mentalities, is my maturity just superficiality? I digress when the stress of excess living hangs heavy on my eyelids like the drooping folds on a poorly tailored dress. That is how I am, the unfinished article - published for all to see, but still under editing. That doesn't stop the scrutiny. See, He has a plan for me. I see those who terminated their subscription to organised religion after the three month trial that gave them guilt free confessions & celestial possessions. By New Year's Day they'll be making use of their warranty, apparently all they need is an apology. But surely, how much longer can one ask for concessions before He confirms the rejection? My dejection is self-inflicted. Even if he could tell I am conflicted, He cannot allow me to constantly misuse my influence. I tell myself I am still in the cocoon but maybe I just need pimping. Butterflies flourish in the warmth of the summer, under the sun provided zeal, I remember how His demise was so gory, may He baptised me in His blood oh Glory to thee. Lord I am Sorry. Zupe Source: Link My heart weeps For the little girl I left During this journey I'm sorry I wasn't patient enough To let you grow up Steph I
When your mind is trying to wander at night,
tell your mother you can't fight right now and follow him; first learn the route to the desolate woman's home, then get on your knees and remind him he is all you have, all the while making sure that he has forgotten the way to her. If you do fail, and he still remembers the route to her, follow him once more, and catch him unaware, give him this single condition- that he must bring you along with him at all times. Temi.F In third year,
you find yourself praying every chance you get, and anywhere you can. After every lecture or seminar, on every page you've turned, in front of laptop screens, between cubicles when you've gone on your toilet break, behind library walls when you've exhausted yourself. By the cathedral steps because you hope to be up there, with your friends because you leave no man behind, under your cover because you've got bags from being burdened all night, over your dissertation because it has now become your living word. In all the dark places your mind wanders, because it does wander and leaves you ceasing. Pray. Temi F. 7 months,
20, To find you, and to lose you. You are not to be had, you are to be loved. Temi.F Image Credit: Maria Maria Acha-Kutscher I sometimes ask myself If today was my last day What would people know me as? The bright young poet? The girl who could never stop talking? The revolutionist? The girl with small eyes and a big heart? Or will they talk about the hidden scars That my husband was an abuser That sometimes my insecurities suffocate me every night That sometimes death feels like a more plausible option Will they remember me for my mind? That I was a ground-breaking anthropologist A beauty that could never be ignored A flirtatious character with an unforgettable laughter Or will they remember the rape That this body I called home Was broken in 6 times a day By a man that was supposed to be my defender That I had a miscarriage last month Will they tell you about my accomplishments? These are things that now seem trivial to me as I lay in this hospital bed With a swollen face and a broken spirit I often wonder what would become of me If I didn’t survive this last attack Yes the LAST My new chance at life Has made me realize there is a way out And it’s just started in my mind Steph I
Photo source: Poel Egbert Lievensz Van-Zerr- Fire in the Village At first glance I thought you were mine.
Perfidious gates of Hades you shall prevail not. Salvation has become a wall around Jerusalem for you have long tried to make dead poets out of this society, but we refuse to be ghosts on relinquished ships. Though the peak is hidden in the heavens, we shall ascend. We who begot in the land of milk and honey. We who eat locusts for breakfast. We who shall retain our saltiness. Mountains have moved because we are mustard seed, we are the evidence of things we have not yet seen. When men speak,they say 'that left knee is deep.. in the shallow end of unbelief' Had men walked this far before Peter began to sink? Greater works will be done by those who confirm your name in the end of the earth Glory onto us, for we have searched you out. We sought and we found. So hurry and come down Zacchaeus, I must stay in your house today. Temi.F |
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