Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Dear God, I miss you so badly
That every fibre of my being ache passionately
Yet I know you’re always sitting in close proximity to me
But the thought that all my best moments are behind me
Makes me stumble at my spot
And thus, I do my best to avoid such parts of memory where it’s only blisters.
I strive to swallow every feeble excuse,
That prevents me from rendering unto you the worship you so rightly deserve
I always seek to suppress the murmurs of discontent,
That threaten to surface whenever I engage in prayer.
I always fail to do so, dear God
My soul remain confined within a small metal cage
But it is only when I surrender to your will,
That my heart is filled with an unencumbered sense of freedom.
That’s when my chest loosens and the next breath comes softer
All my dreams have warped their high, Narrow windows.
And it feels like the whole world is under my thumb.
This feeling is bursting at the seams and cuts me open like a sword,
Laying bare my deeper vulnerabilities.
The hope I stuffed in my breast has always felt alien
Oh, dear God, I want you to pull my head in your lap,
And gently tease my tangled locks with your soothing fingers.
Cement us together in this moment and forever where I am an apple.
Brush away the stains that sully my palms,
And revive my flagging spirit.
©️Praise Mk Nkhoma
QUENCH THE RAGING RIVER
Dear Heavenly Father,
I want to confess: I am scared.
Not of the dark, nor of the remnants of my past.
I tremble at the prospect of myself,
Of the person I am behind the corners,
Where something is quaking at the very roots of my faith.
I have made it a practice to surmount this feeling.
The noxious stench of fear clings to me and reeks of blood.
Yet, I find myself unable to transform it
Into wings of liberation,
To fly beyond the furthest hills
That have been limiting my vision.
It’s a blow of vulnerability, and the devil is surely at rest,
Looking at me as I wallow in my small world.
My failure to cultivate the fertile terrain
Of my deepest desires,
And gain mastery over the power of my tongue,
Constitutes the crux of my dilemma.
To take a stab at its waves leaves me stumbling more.
How, oh God, can I hope to see
What lies behind the eyes of tomorrow?
This is no rhetorical query, dear God, I confess.
I am simply afraid that if I might tug a leaf,
The whole tree might shake.
Oh God, quench the raging river in my heart,
Extinguish the blazing furnace of my grief.
©️Praise Mk Nkhoma
BIO: Praise Mk Nkhoma is a trailblazing wordsmith from Malawi, igniting the literary world with his remarkable talent. This visionary writer has been tirelessly crafting his art, and making a profound impact on the literary landscape. He has commandeered multiple literary platforms on social media, garnering widespread acclaim and recognition.
