Tag Archives: biay

To Emmaus

He lived, they saw, they followed
He died, they feared, they burrowed
He lived, they heard

He lived, they saw, but burrowed
Or left: despair the venom
Seeping into the herd

The women gave a new testament
The dead man Heaven sent 
Was dead no more.

The apostles gave same testament
He lived and died and under went
Then rose to more

But such witness may not suffice
And more of the Old opened the eyes
Of the walking pair

Maybe this age losing its sight
Can be hinged on this singular fact
That the New comes into light,
Still hidden the ancient artefacts
That prop the story up aright.

He lived, they saw, but burrowed
Even as witnesses gave testament
For they knew not of the Old,
Of prophets, and Solomon's gold
Of Ephraim, and Rehoboam
Of Susanna's guiltless sorrow

Maybe we can't see the Old in the New
And by keeping only the partial Testament
We worship ourself, call it Neo-testament, 
Rejecting the Lord's call to go over anew,
From Genesis to see His grace anew
That at the breaking of the Bread
We may see His glorious Godhead. 

(c) nyonglema

Covid killed me in 2021 #BIAY

Resolutions fall like confetti in the first act, 
As the bride walks on, not caring to step on this
Or that one; the pews empty, one by one, back 
To whence they came, a normal born of temporal bliss

The remote control brings banners and warnings in: 
Beware the Greek alphabet may just not suffice!
Get the jab, the jab, the jab... hearts beating 
Poised one against the other lest humanity survive

Punches get thrown where confetti stood before 
Covid, jab, covid, covid, fun now turns to war 
Tears now turned to phlegm hurled from tours
Only vaxxed can access, but there yet was more

Beyond the banners, and warnings, and dying confetti
Came one crying in the wilderness, vaxxed or not, 
But bearing a promise that the bride's heel tip
Going into the new year may have crushed, or not;

Echoes of generations past like Urquelle to Urkel, 
Old words made new with meanings I never knew
With the gentility of that loving single uncle, 
The words in my ears were morning sun, gentle dew

But dew is never wasted as roots push even deeper
Green gets even greener, love grows even stronger.
Working from home gets even drearier, days longer
But the words remain louder, daily louder larger

Foundation stones become lintels, pillars towering
Over the statue of my entrenched ego, saying "Let go". 
Do I deserve the 3-65 days you're offering?
I feel the hammers chip away at what's refusing to grow:

In the 2nd year Anno Coronaviri, when AD was written CE,
A bearded man picked up one of my confetti, and 
Not knowing me, prayed me into keeping 1st Jan promises,
Amidst despair at desecrations gripping the land. 

But they weren't his words. They were His Word. 
Day by day, chipping away, like covid at my tubes
But this time making something new from me bored
Making me see the Lion crouched behind the cub, 
Making me be the cub ready to let Him face 2022

(c) nyonglema