i have bathed and swam in the miraculous.
i have tasted raw your love and care
but this, Lord take away:
this time i’m a mountain, standing for you,
in a moment trials and troubles have weathered me
into a smouldering plain, and i’m wondering why
my cross be laced with thorns,
my path be home to thorns,
and i’m scrambling for faith like a toddler tossed to sea.
my mind is a room dirtier than my body,
pushing me to take a bite of the forbidden.
how do I hold this burning?
teach me to say no to these free meals, even when
my loins long to dine.
maybe my mind needs your touch.
maybe my eyes are open like eve’s already.
maybe i’m just a man with the feelings of men.
the drawings and paintings of your
daughters on the walls of my mind scare me:
my mind has touched everywhere and everything sacred.
and i seem lost like a canoe without a paddle on the sea.
pray for me like you prayed for Peter.
carry me like you carried Peter after he fell again and again.
carry me even if my falls are like the dust of the earth.
Oluwafemi Babasola is a Nigerian poet and writer. He believes man must cling to hope, even if it’s all he has. His poems have appeared on Bravearts Africa, Praxis Magonline, Kreative Diadem, Kalahari Review, The Rising Phoenix Review, Tuck Magazine, African Writer, Parousia and Nantygreens. He lives in Osogbo, Nigeria. You can follow him on Twitter @babasola10on10.
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