Clout my words
Set my hands
And move my legs,
Miss me from stoppage sword
Spot me like an innocent child
Harden my cord
Let all difficult rivers be ford
Stop all bees’ hordes
As I go honey hound.
My life be straightforward,
But if I’m to live to die wretched;
Why shall I be born or get my sword stretched?
Oh, lord!
Like in my mother’s womb, give me a cord
Strengthen me like a rod
Listen to my entreaty for victory.
(C) 2010
The True Poesy
written by Onyeche Vincent Onyeka
Advertisements
