Blood-red Sunday

A day dedicated to love –
Sometimes I can’t tell if it’s for the abuse of love or its celebration.

The Love I know is blood-red and disfigured,
Lacking the sweetness of chocolates and the beauty of red roses.

The Love I know is naked and priceless,
It’s value hidden in virtue, not in the price-tags of fancy red dresses.

Continue reading
Quote

Quote #55

“Some things are too expensive to buy, yet too precious to ignore. Your life is not worthless – no life is; Christ has paid for your life with His, that you may have eternal life. Won’t you let Him have yours now to complete the deal? A one-sided deal is no deal at all. You must do your part. And sometimes your part is simply sincerely saying, ‘I surrender’.” – Makafui.

#Life_Quotes_3

#Romans 10:9

#Photo by Luis Quintero from Pexels

The Rising (Fathers)

I’m unqualified to write about fatherhood,
I have enough trouble just being a son;
Yet the thought is one that weighs heavily on the mind…
I realise I’m caught in a cycle where sons become fathers:
How would it feel to have a son today,
Who treats me like I treated my father yesterday,
And treats his son tomorrow like I treat him today – blessing or curse?
Continue reading

Welcome

Take me to the Place where the saints gather,
To the convention of the just made perfect;
Where the clouds of glory settle and tongues of fire dance;
To the atmosphere so pure that I come undone to be refined.
It is where David dances and Solomon sits to be taught;
A place whose gates Sampson’s strength does not qualify him to guard.
Continue reading

Relapse

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.
Continue reading

Sing Me A Song

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:
Continue reading

To Those Who Make Words Fail

There is a well from which the thirsty draw,
It is an ancient well that never runs dry;
The abject woe of this generation is that
There are few who know how to draw from this well;
And even fewer who know the value and use of that which they draw.
There are those who draw only to quench fires and thirst;
There are those who draw to nourish themselves and others;
And there are those who teach and encourage others to draw too.
Continue reading