To Yahweh

Dear Daddy First of all … I call you Daddy because you are my Father. Though many are ignorant of their Genesis, I revel in the Revelation of You as my Source. They put on their blue jeans, “fly” their collars in arrogance and forget the origin of their genes – but I won’t forget my creator. Some might think I am merely pontificating or attempting to appear like one with a speed dial to Heaven. In the ravishing romance of Romans Paul calls you ABBA. This is no counterfeit affection, no shabby attire traded on the streets of Aba. YOU are my DADDY. I am Charmed by your Majesty. My Spirit resonates with your Sweet Spirit. There is a collision of YOUR Divinity and my humanity. I yearn for more of YOU. Length of days are worthless without YOU, my El HANNORA (Awesome God). The night stars exude your glory. Just as the Jews on their Exodus from Egypt, they extol your

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Touch

For Damilare Babalola… I woke up empty today. Engulfed by my desires and seemingly insurmountable needs I have somehow lost sight of what it means to be alive. My struggle is endless. Each day drags me relentlessly to the house of my tormentor. With his steely gaze on my back he begins to flog me without flinching or remorse. But there is hope… Soon I will leave this job. Soon I will build my house. Soon I will become a source of joy and no longer the harbinger of sadness. Soon … because this morning I will touch the hem of His robe. I will place my withering fingers on the fringes of his shawl and I know I will be made whole. “And his disciples said unto him (brusquely, almost with sarcasm), thou seest the multitude thronging thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me?” – Mark 5:31 WHAT A QUESTION! You cannot ignore the audacity of such. Look at

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I saw God today!

I haven’t travelled far so I have learnt to find God in minute details. Like the way the fan spins or the fluttering of a cockroach’s wings – JMD When I heard JMD say this, my mind went into overdrive and I began to think. I have travelled far in my imagination. In my travels, I stood on the craggy slopes of Sinai and sat with Moses and the elders as they feasted with God. I played the earliest form of chess with Jonah and discussed the philosophy of ants with Solomon. Truth be told the first and last time I entered a plane was in Nursery school so JMD’s comment startled me. Man’s mind takes him places, opens him up to adventures that he might never physically experience. My mind has taken me to the romance-laced streets of Paris where I penned my first love poem to a stranger I have never and might never see. This same mind

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Out of the Boat

Love is fear’s bane. He that walks in love walks perfectly for his walk is neither hampered by doubt nor is it fettered by fear. He dares to walk where Angels dread. He dares to walk in the valley of death’s shadow for he brings life and hope to those cast off as dead. Jesus walked in perfect Love and neither the laws of physics nor human nature could shackle him. On the raging Galilean sea he marched triumphantly seemingly oblivious to the tumultuous waves and harsh winds. He walked with the poise of one infinitely greater than the combined military forces of salty sea and sultry winds. Above the storms he walked unperturbed, bringing to the remembrance of the waters that it was He who formed them through the simplicity of his word, that it was He who restrained them with borders no one has ever seen. He walked on the seas and behold this sight was foreign to

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AWE

Each time I am hurt by friends I turn to the page to pen my thoughts. Today was one such day. In my bitterness I trudged petulantly to my bed, picked my journal and decided to pour out my anger. After all I was a skilled poet with verses so unique they could actually frame a universe. I remember the friend who claimed I was too difficult and proceeded to mute me in his life. I recalled that one with whom I used to converse nightly, who then retreated when it became apparent that I was flawed beyond repair. As I tossed and turned in my self-inflicted anguish, I felt a calm rush over me. Then I heard a voice. It was childlike… frail and fragile. The soft lilt impinged on my eardrums, sending chills down my spine. I could not tell whether it was a child or not. I quietened my mind and listened. “I stand in awe of

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