In the midst of trials, sometimes up is down
And the lines are blurred; Truth is trifled with,
The boundaries of falsehood are extended,
And to distinguish between left and right
Is to choose between a rock and a hard place.
Some say words are cheap; I disagree in part;
For my words are heavy and expensive,
Because they are not entirely mine.
I’m learning to let mine simmer
In the broth of truth over the fires of faith.
There are those whose stories
Are etched on their bodies;
It’s in every untimely wrinkle,
Each inexplicably heavy sigh;
The weight of each step,
The unconscious stoop,
The wary glance,
The weary countenance,
The shallow smile.
To the Ever-present Help in times of trouble;
The King Eternal, All-Mighty, Gracious, Kind;
He whose Glory fills the earth to saturation,
Each square inch, phenomena, snippet of time
And space and breath and thought, captivated.
He made you, patiently knit you,
Each strand purposefully chosen;
Shades of colours, textures and strength,
His hands went over every piece,
His breath filled every part;
He looked and said, ‘It is good, it is unique,
It’s another masterpiece.’
“The wind under the wings of those who put their trust in God is ever present grace. For when the mighty in Christ fall, they fall to their knees to rise again, higher than they were before. It is that cushion that breaks the fall of the righteous, and doubles as a springboard to higher heights.” – Makafui.
“I stepped into the streets one morning only to notice that the sidewalk was littered with little broken pieces of my heart and psyche. So here I am, on a beautifully overcast morning, standing on the sidewalk, wondering how I still look functional.” – Makafui.