Skip to main content

TEN MEN


'But one went to him
But one gave thanks
But one, a Samaritan.'


Ten men, unwell
Dirty both in mind and body
Choped were their hands and legs
Rejected their names were
The lepers and the sent-aways
All of nature shows no sign of help
Hope gave them no bed
They were prisoners in their own sinful jail.

Then He came to them
The messiah, king, lord and hope
And when sockets and balls did their duty
They saw him and hope welcomed them to bed
‘help us master, mercy on us, Please, good master!
And mercy vibrated all over him
And there he gave command
‘go show thyselves to God’s eyes dwelling in the temple
They went, faith all over their soul
While their legs rolled away
They met healing on the way
And it embraced them and they did the same
And they, with joy draining their minds, went away
But one, embrassing healing, turned back
But one went to him
But one gave thanks
But one, a Samaritan.
He was surprised that none
But one out of the ten men came back
Disappointed was his heart
For ten were healed
But one made whole
On the surface they were healed
But on the inside they were sick
Except one who came back.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

TWO WATERS by Mide Benedict

                               When two stones meet, they say, either one breaks the other, or they both break into pieces, but when two waters mix, they become one, and inseparable: so was the way it went for Akanji and Aduke. The day was bright at that time. The light of the sun shinned through the clouds, covering large fields of grasses and making them appear very radiant in their green skins. Akanji had kept it in mind for long: his heart pierced him badly that he knew that day was the day he would regain his freedom. Aduke, an elegant lady with vibrant smiles, enormous charms that made men melt on sighting her, sat beside Akanji as they usually did everyday. Many men have dreamt of Aduke in the night when they snoozed in bed with snores. In fact, many wanted to have her as something; be it wife, mistress or whatever just to have a taste of her, but the more they spoke to her, the more she ...
11 comments
Continue Reading

Mute by Mide Benedict

That Friday, everyone was spitless, yet it felt as if we spoke all at once in fading tones. Adiza, Halimat's sister wore it differently, her eyes, blood red, her tongue, twisted. Mine was twisted too. Halimat laid right there, silent and unmoving; each gaze at her drove tears out of my eyes.
Post a Comment
Continue Reading

God and The Snail: Poetry For Some One Lost Soul

Sometimes it feels Like all is done, That this life of ours Is caught in deadly thorns: From where we cry for help in a land Where to have ears is a great taboo! But in all these... we remember...
2 comments
Continue Reading