The enemy in the dark

My voice greeted me
With contempt

Prayers met me
With prisoned smile

The joy of early birth
Is eyes that stood unrest

I’ve become the enemy
That struggles in the dark

For wounded, the heart fails
To recognize love that first gave
All love

The hands feel not the storm
That buries the wrong

Return, pay thee your eyes
To my morning songs

Let spoilage not ruin
My crops evermore

Let wine smell sweet the
Sacred soul

And I would reappear in my
Wedding gown

MO.

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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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