A Broken Water Pot

She was the goddess of beauty,
The deity of sensuality,
The symbol of perfection,
The mermaid of purity,
And the true embodiment of femininity,

She is the adorable daughter of the king; her words revealed royalty,
The beloved of her mother; whose charity towards her knew no bounds,
She was the role model of all maidens; mothers chided their daughters to tread her path,
The envy of all females; whose feminine features they desired,
The object of the males' lust; whose sacred region they yearned,
And the center of the elders' fantasies; whose addition to their host of wives, they longed,

Then saturated with glory,
She became filled with pride,
And engorged with arrogance,
As the passion for desecration surged within her bowels,
Driving her in the direction of masculinity and love,

Disgracefully, she let the lower member of the stronger sex in between her thighs,
Permitted the defilement of her womanhood,
Swayed the branches of royalty in the winds of peasants and mere mortals,
And out of that hut of impoverishment stepped, her feminine waters trickling down her once sanctified thighs,

So, she became deflowered,
Ripped of her pride;
Her dignity ruined by this inglorious experience,
Her purity contaminated,
Her sanctity desecrated,
Her consecration to the dogs cast,
And her beauty faded.
What a shame.

Abused

Torn-apart by the violent winds of assault; ripped of sanctity,
My soul weeps for her ordeal,
Emotionally disfigured in the flames of forceful penetration; devoid of purity,
My heart cries for the brutal hand she's been dealt,
Her life, in tatters, lie, bruised and traumatized,
Denied of rights which to her legitimately belongs,
Wounded by the spear of inhumanity,
Despised by those from whom healing, she desired, her heart bleeds and her soul cries,
And I can't but ask why, it should be her?

Abandoned in the bonds of penury,
Entrapped within the shackles of savagery,
Her spirit crushed by the impact of dehumanization,
She yearns for a beam of hope, and her soul for the rays of deliverance, wails,
So I'm asking her to give life another chance and look on the bright side,
And to, inspite of her pain, and from the midst of her travail, draw up the waters of healing and optimism,
Look beyond her plights and let go of pessimism,

From the valleys of victimization,
From the dungeons of desecration,
And the prisons of pain,
Her heart cries out,
Her spirit weeps,
And her soul sobs,
And we can't help but listen with ears of sympathy and lend her hands of comfort and shoulders of restoration.

Poverty

Like a dreaded disease,
It descends upon man,
Ripping him of his dignity and pride,
Sapping him of his laughter and joy,

Like a big conspicuous scar,
It spreads across the faces of the helpless children, the less privilege, and destitute,
Denying them of educational opportunities, and a healthy living,
Seizing from them the right to a joyful and long lasting life,

From the mountains and valleys of Africa, it cries,
From the oil rich regions of West Africa, it rages,
From the war-torn zones of Sudan, it yells,
From the rural parts of Congo, it shouts,
And from the battle-raging fields of the Middle-east, it rings,

Within my spirit, it sparks up the lights of sadness,
Within my soul, ignites the fires of poignancy,
Down my cheek, it rolls down rivulets of tears,
And my heart bleeds,

The silence has lingered for too long,
The indifference for decades,
And the complacency for centuries have lasted,

Now is the time,
Here is the season,
And the period is right,
For us to come together,
Pull our resources together,
Jettison the load of poverty,
Eradicate the pangs of hunger,
And destroy the roots of sadness.

Death

An inevitable end which all mortals must face,
The door that closes at the end of an evil world;
And opens to the beginning of a new world; the nature of which is unique with each man,
The beginning of our memories, if any, in the lives of the living,
And the unseen companion deep-rooted in the being of humans,
Leading them each passing day to the great beyond,

The invisible hands that pulls us away from this world of mortality,
Leaving behind the friendship and acquaintanceship with those whom we met,
In the course of our so brief a sojourn,
And transcending to the realm of eternity;
Where we become oblivious of carnality,
And a debt which all living creatures must pay,

Housed in the grave, sheltered in mother earth,
A rest from all the sorrows and uncertainties of life,
An end to all the struggles of existence,
And the only killer of the dreams and visions of the great,

A replica of sorrow,
An emblem of grief and an embodiment of despondency,
To those who lack the foresight to see beyond it.

The Graveyard

THE GRAVE YARD

      As I stood in the midst of the crowd of mourners gathered around the graveside of my bosom friend who was from my point of view, untimely called to glory, I watched with grief, his corpse being lowered six feet into the dug grave, and as rivulets of tears rolled down my cheeks, it dawned on me that something worse than death could have happened to my friend.

         Turning to leave the crowd, I took two slow and plodding steps forward and was miles away from my parked car which my late friend bought for me as a birthday gift, just weeks before his death, when the various sizes, shapes and look of the graves, tombs and sepulchers, became more conspicuous than when I first arrived the GRAVE YARD; and a sudden sense of silence in the GRAVE YARD, seemed to envelope me. Just then I realized it would have been worse for my friend to have died without fulfilling his purpose and living out his dreams and visions in life. If that was the case, his grave and invariably the grave yard would have swallowed up his gifts, talents, potentials, skills and calling. But thank God he died fulfilled; even though I wished he lived, for at least some more years.

        However, staring thoughtfully at the graves and tombs scattered around the grave yard, I immediately had a paradigm shift. I discovered that opposed to my earlier thoughts and pattern of reasoning, the treasures of mother earth, the wealth of the world, and the riches of the universe lie not in the gold mines of South Africa, nor in the oil wells of Texas; neither are they embedded or buried in the vast vegetation and prolific agricultural produce of the tropics, nor in the majestic throne of the Queen of England; but deep-rooted in the grave yards, buried in those old, dusty graves and enclosed within the inanimate sepulchers, are  the world’s greatest treasury- of untapped gifts, unused talents, unexplored potentials, unfulfilled dreams and visions, and unanswered calls. It became clearer to me that buried in the grave yard are books that were never written, songs that were never sung; dreams and visions that were never fulfilled, gifts, talents and potentials that were never discovered and great ideas that the world never came to know or benefit from, because the bearers or carriers of these, in their life time, while they still lived and had breathe in their nostrils, did not let them manifest.

        Again, I began weeping. This time not for my late friend, but for the many souls whose cadavers and bones lay lifeless in those graves, and tombs, without their life’s purpose being fulfilled. Some  would have been the world’s greatest song writers and musicians, some would have been the greatest entrepreneurs that ever lived; our world have become more enlightened by the written and published literary works of some, and most importantly, hell would have been greatly depopulated by the powerful sermons of some. But all that is now written in the book called “Would Have Been”, in the chapters called, “Could have become” and by a best selling author called, “Unfulfilled”- all is now history. I wished I were Ezekiel as I stared at those graves and tomb stones, but it is too late, for all that untapped treasures are now as lifeless and dead as the graves and dead bodies in them- nothing can be done to change the hands of time. What a pity and a waste. How disheartening.

        But then, a very challenging question arose within my soul- “Why did this happen this way, why do people die unfulfilled; unheard off, unsung off and unread off?” And in trying to answer these questions, I figured poverty, sickness, lack of opportunities, illiteracy, and most of all, ignorance are some of the reasons why the grave yard keeps depriving the world of the treasures God prepared for it. I also figured, in all these, ignorance was top of the list; for poverty, sickness, lack of opportunities, and illiteracy are no excuse for dying unfulfilled. I realized some of the world’s most celebrated heroes were born paupers, without a silver spoon in their mouths; some lived and battled with protracted illnesses till the day of their death, others like Nelson Mandela weathered the storms of segregation and racial injustices to change their generation; some others like Barack Obama transcended the borders of racism to achieve the once impossible and fulfill a once forgotten dream, and a few like Pa Akindayomi of the Redeemed Christian Church of God defied the principles of education and literacy to pioneer a church that now has over a million congregation and is constantly reaching our world with God’s love. These all had seemingly insurmountable mountains on their path way, but it didn’t stop them from achieving their dreams in life. Others were born in one of the world’s poorest nations and into one of the most impoverished families, but they weathered the storms of poverty, and a less-privileged society and rose to the mark of greatness. They bought for themselves a place in the annals of time, wrote for themselves a date in the chronicles of event and opened for themselves chapters in the pages of history. Will you?

         Now back to Ignorance; ignorance of what God put in so many has led them into the wrong professions where their potentials are under-utilized, it has led many to live unfulfilled lives and die without an accomplishment of their dreams, and some live each passing day in depression, dejection, and regrets, for ignorance of the source of their lives- God. Then as I wiped the tears off my eyes and cheeks, some stunning questions yelled from within me- “Do You Have a Dream, And Do You Want to Let It Die, Would You Sojourn Through this Transitory World into Eternity without the World Being Affected by Your Life?” “Which is Better; to Work Hard, whether Life’s Challenges and Uncertainties, and Become Great in Life to the Glory of Your Maker, or to Sit Idle, Blame your Parents for Being Poor, your Country for Being underdeveloped, or yourself for Being disabled, and Then Let the Grave Yard be Enriched and Have its Treasures Aggrandized by the Deposit of your Biodegraded Corpse?” You answer it. But remember, “Remember now your maker while you are young, while the evil days have not come, and you are still young, when you will say, I do not take pleasure in them”- Ecclesiastes chapter 12 verse 1, “For it is appointed unto man to die once, and after that comes judgment- Hebrews chapter 9 verse 27, “A man’s gift makes a way for him and brings him before great men”- Proverbs chapter 18 verse 16, “Where there is no vision, the people perish”- Proverbs chapter 29 verse 18, and, “Do you see a man diligent in his works? He will stand before kings, and not before low men”- Proverbs chapter 22 verse 29. To be fulfilled you must return to your maker and source- God, for He made you and so knows what you were made for. Make him the lord of your life, live a life of holiness, and watch Him lift you from grass to grace, prison or pit to palace, adversity to prosperity, trials to testimonies, poverty to popularity, and have Him turn your groaning to glory. Think about it, but while you are at it, know that the clock is ticking. The choice is yours. Peace.

A Mother's Love

Sweeter than honey,
More satisfying than the freshness of the summer springs,
The weaknesses of childhood invigorate, than the eve breezes' cool,
Gently transforming, from the fetal state to infancy,

Pure and true, void of deception,
Not doting, but instructing, rid of hate,
Nurturing and caring, devoid of neglect,
Cautiously watching from infancy to puberty,

Attentive and encouraging, full of hope,
Sensitive and careful, studded with direction,
Reproving and corrective; an embodiment of wisdom,
Thoroughly directing from puberty to adulthood, and building a life of responsibility.

Love Waits

Though your heart be broken,
Your trust betrayed,
And your fidelity abused,
Never be enslaved in the bonds of despondency,
For deep within, love lies, waiting to be revived;

Factually, your soul lies in tatters,
Your life with disappointment is filled,
And your tenderness at masculinity is furious,
Don't be infuriated,
For out there in a genuine personality, love lies, waiting to be met,

Sexual infidelity out off your disposition, sweetness may have sapped,
In your nature a seed of hate planted,
And within your femininity, frigidity, several ordeals of disloyalty, imbued,
But repudiate negativity, and revive your femininity,
For in the ocean of affection true love swims, waiting to be discovered.