At the pool of blood

At the pool of blood

My eyes saw my face,
many faces
Generations was born slowly
The father became the son
The mother became the daughter

The wind brings more rain
toss, to and fro
The world was not
a friendly home

I saw my face
My flesh gave away
greeted by the hail
of another pain
I held my soul, raising my brow
I blessed the sun
making me see her face


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About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
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2 Responses to At the pool of blood

  1. John says:

    Wow! Did you write this from a prompt or did the first line just “come to you”?


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