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Holy Spirit
My soul is lifted out of my mind.
In its stead—
filled by the Holy Spirit,
guided in silence by its breath...
like an angry wind held still
above a river born of crashing falls,
with a tooth that grinds iniquities,
and a sacred flame
that cooks the soul, the mind, the spirit—
to perfection...
for the baptism of old me
to become a whole holy me.
Sent as a dove,
an olive leaf clutched in its beak,
frozen mid-flow in time,
seeking the ark that once preserved all lives—
not merely to procreate,
but to proselytize,
to turn men
from detestable sins
to delectable holiness—
confirming God's presence
even in our loneliness.
Then I preached His word
to multitudes on the altar of His house~
and they fell under the anointing,
speaking in tongues not their own.
The Holy Spirit descended like fire,
subsuming the pure in heart—
consuming their sins.
Those once presumed lost to the lake of fire
resumed their worship of the true God—
Creator of the heavens, the earth...
and everything.
Then I laid hands on the sick,
and they were healed.
Even the dead rose from sacred dreams—
a sight so fierce
it left Satan trembling...
as I, in His name,
banished his agents
into oblivion.
All this... because I am filled,
and led,
by the Holy Spirit.
Copyright ©
Maclawrence Famuyiwa
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