The days seem to go by so fast. there is a void in the air, the birds have lost their vibrant beat, the ocean has lost its luster, the soil feels solid and dry.
My soul feels as if it has left my body before my death, my dreams haunt my day, the tears stain my steps, my doctor says that it is depression, I say that it is reality, I am intoxicated by society,I am numb by perscriptions.
Why do I feel so isolated within myself? is there no one in my painfully tight shoes? can anyone understand my pain? can anyone melt in my sorrows? why am I this way? why is the world so cruel? why can't I be normal?
Wait! I am normal, what am I saying, I know now, the veil has been lifted, humanity is my enemy, the sins that drip from their sweat, the dread that follows their shadows, their souls of black, their intentions of greed pull a shade across their eyes.
They are destined for doom, they will not be saved, they will not find salvation, they belittle me, they curse me, they shame me, but they are right about one thing, I am different, unlike them, I will be saved in the last days.
Copyright © stephanie hanvey | Year Posted 2013
Soft, still, the silence heaves
I inhale, the Spirit breathes;
Flowing, growing Christ bestowing
Life and strength surpassing knowing.
Scented, soothing, respiration
Taking in His inspiration;
Filling, feeling Christ exalted
Love and Grace supremely vaulted.
Sure, secure the Spirit wind
Where flows the Sovereign;
God revealing Christ resplendent
Hope and purpose codependent.
When He breathes upon the morn
Hope has dawned and life is born;
He my all in all shall be
From now unto eternity.
Copyright © Tom Valles | Year Posted 2013
As the sharp rays of sunlight slowly sliced
through the tinted tarring clouds
sculpting away the web of darkness of night
I broke off a piece of time and used it
to scrape away the corrosion of agony
from the heart of my mind
and resuscitated my eroded faith.
Today I will open dusty luggage of creativity
and pull out wrinkled war worn words of creation:
etch ebony emotions of long lived life
onto refined pulp of trees; weave soul stirring songs;
mold scented petals flowering peace and love;
and feel the breath of God warming my serene sweet soul
as He feathers the nest of my pregnant poetic mind. Selah.
Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015
With the smiling Fajr to the East, I remember the clipping of toes from side to side with the solemn recitation of the Holy Quran. The imagination of Allah’s mercy boils in my heart, the fence of success glows the microphone loud our voices and increases our concentration.
The canopy of congregation, the sound of Al-Fatha and the rolling of Aameen, erects the hope of building fence of success. The devil vows it arrows to decapitate the souls of humanity to fickle night. The sign of success suckles it breast each morning, my alarming clock cannot be ignored to ignorance.
The flash of Fajr is a new beginning day; it builds gardens of gold to the circle of fallout. The Almighty defends me. From the hijacking of my soul to disavow the Fajr in the morning to epitomizes my forefather’s footsteps.
The glory of ablution thrills me to trillions of hope; I regret all the days I dashed responsible to the failure of my soul for the past uncountable time inept to put my forehead down on the ground before my creator. I lament for those times I setback from purifying my soul to solid hope, no amount of regret is justifiable to the fable mistakes and the rogue that rocks my life to florescent beep.
I citadel glowing candles to win the wind on my knees as a base to the realization God is with me. The Praising of Allah on the knees erects my hope to kiss the sky lamp to bubble gown. I lament all the gowns of prayers I never wear as official duty upon my life.
I regret the poor accent of reciting the Holy Quran, and aura night I regret the sleep I slept as they were empty of prayers. The Mosque is the only place I must fight to defend five times a day, seven days a week and the rest of my life.
Copyright © Mohamed Manzur Bah | Year Posted 2017
A Call to a Religious Life
By Lillian J. Jeffery
Family pray together,
share their table with the poor,
young Agnes goes on outings,
outings with the local church,
sings in the choir
Her chosen life is Christian
her divine guide is Jesus Christ,
she starts and ends her day with pray
Stories of missionaries touch, touch
her ears, her heart, she sees the
face of God on every face
Hears, hears the voice of God
calling, calling her to serve,
serve a religious life,
she is twelve
Follows her calling, leaves
her home in Skopje, Macedonia,
joins the Sisters of Loreto,
a community of nuns in Ireland
with a Mission in India,
she is eighteen
Sisters send her to a House in Calcutta,
she takes her initial vows and name,
Sister Teresa, honors Therese of Lisieux,
patron saint of Australia, missionaries,
florist, AIDs sufferers
Teaches catechism, geography,
history at St. Mary's High School,
a school dedicated to teaching girls
from the poorest, poorest families
The door swings open,
she moves to school's principal,
loves her work, stays seventeen years.
Copyright © Lillian White | Year Posted 2017