“We are in a time and season where ‘wearing a mask’ is no longer just a philosophical or psychological or social euphemism, but a socio-medical necessity and in some places a legal injunction. What a transformation there would be though, if the putting on of physical masks connoted the taking off of the invisible masks that men have been known to wear to hide insecurities and cover-up hurts and propagate cruelties. Then maybe we would see each other for who we are, get the help we need, and heal; Then maybe we would all see that we are all not that different from each other – that we are all frail and insecure by ourselves, and that our masks, irrespective of size or design, have done nothing but deceive us – giving us false security and offering us up to vain gods; Then maybe we will all learn that only by baring ourselves before He who made us, are we made whole.” – Makafui.
When the past, long thought dead, suddenly becomes the present…
Of course, it’s usually the unwanted past that creeps up – go figure…
So sly, playing possum, waiting for that atmosphere – the crack in the psyche.
For it knows, that with the pressures of life come cracks and fractures;
And oftentimes the more rigid the structures, the deeper the damage,
The louder the snaps, and the more forceful the bursts.
Thank You for touching me
When I’d grown numb from disappointments;
For pulling me up from the pit of depression;
For cutting me out of the belly of hopelessness;
For wrestling me from the arms of despair.
“The book of the mysteries of fate is written with the pen of faith. Dark nights and cloudy days may be fate, but they can not put out the flames of faith.” – Makafui.
Thirteen minutes ago, I got a call.
It wasn’t good news, Granny was ill,
And I somehow knew this was going to be the last time.
We spoke over the phone, and she said not to come over;
The voice was Nanny’s voice as I remember it,
But it carried something more now,
A certain weight I couldn’t place,
Though she sounded frail also…it was the strangest thing.
Nanny spoke like I’ve never heard her speak before,
And I listened as if I was in a trance:
“God is never surprised by the kind of prayers we pray; He is well aware He came to hear broken people. He ignores the selfishness, ignorance, bitterness, and unbelief; and keeps whispering, ‘My child, this too shall pass; Morning is nigh’.” – Makafui.
The setting is a long stretch of road
Strewn with pearls and diamonds and rubies.
It smells of freshly baked dainties and ripened fruits;
Bright as the noonday sun and straight as a ray of light
With inscriptions engraved at every step:
Beauty for ashes; No more tears;
“It’s such a relief that there’s a God who can bring dead things back to life, and who does not disdain to use broken things; For we’re all broken, just to varying degrees.” – Makafui.
“Most times, simple words of encouragement help. They might appear to drop like seeds into an abyss, and get lost in a sea of negative emotions or ample apathy; But with prayer, these seeds do die in the abyss, then spring up as trees of hope. The more seeds you throw into the abyss, and the more prayer you water them with, the more likely you are to see trees of hope spring up in the not too distant future.” – Makafui.
These are words I couldn’t share before,
Trapped in a growing earthen mould not yet equipped
To express the gravity of the thoughts that linger
And roam in the depths of this immortal soul.
I’ve seen things stranger than fiction
And heard things that cannot be put into words
I’ve taken steps falteringly, seemingly aimlessly
To a destination that couldn’t be surer.