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You gave me the resolve that I needed
And the strength
To believe I was worth it.

Now my foundation is crumbling in the spot –
The one you once occupied.

Slowly
My rock has turned to dust
And i’m falling down
To the ground,
Back to the place where you found me.

Before you built me up,
Made me taller
Than other skyscrapers
Surrounding me.

I don’t think anyone else
Has the right tools
To make me solid again,
To rebrand me
But my belief was firm
That one day,
The Great One shall restore me.

(22/19/13 @xirlleelang)
JJ Elias May 2014
War
I haven't slept for two days now. The nights pass by slowly as I am in deep thought, my grandmother’s radio plays at full volume in the other room, and my parents and uncle talk loudly into the ears of their loved ones an ocean away.
I hear my father tell his brother to search for his son among the bodies of the dead, I hear my mother asking for the latest news and picture her standing there holding her breathe as she listens to the tired frantic voice of the person on the other end of the line, and I play the scene over and over again where my grandmother walks slowly into my room, with a back, hunched because of years of hard labor. She stares at me with a wrinkled face and a look in her eyes that I recall seeing only a few times but only when she speaks of her past, during the rough times.
She asks me if I know what's going on, and I tell her yes. Then she begins to summarize anyways, speaking in a lowered voice so that is just above a whisper enunciating each word clearly and I understand despite the usual misunderstandings between me and her, I nod my head, and release noises known worldwide to reassure someone who is speaking that the audience is listening.
And as her words become separated by seconds that tell stories in themselves, and that look in her eyes, she says in a grave voice and in a language that seems so familiar yet foreign, “chi we dak, chi we dak” then she turns around and walks out of the room in the same fashion in which she came in.
I ponder her words as I sit there.
“The world has broken, the world has broken.”
Struggles plague or day to day,
poverty stricken,
and heartbroken.

We search for meaning,
for love,
in an unlit room and no light to guide us.

We are striving for the American dream,
but even if we reach it,
we would not know true joy.

We fight the pain with numbness.
In anger we lash out with arrogant fists,
and lustful bodies.

Telling our creator off.
Telling him "We are in control!"
Telling him to intervene.

because we cannot live through
another rejection,
another loss.

With arms bloodied from the glass vase we threw at him
he embraces us with his love.

And as he looks us in our eyes with tears, we caused,
streaming down his face,
we are enveloped in His grace.

We wait for words of anger to pour from his lips
and instead, out falls
undeserved mercy.

Our creator knew we would strive
for worldly glory
and earthly treasure.

He knew we would fight him every step of the way and
he forgave our sins
before we were even a whisper in our mothers hearts.

As we beg him to save us from the next rejection,
we reject him.

We worthless reject the one worth all.

He loves us through our doubts,
our fears,
our anger

because he sees through our worthlessness,
to the hidden worth,
that he created.

As he is strung up on a cross
of our wrongdoings
we scream the unfairness of our circumstance.

As if our pain was a cruel prank he played
and not a result
of our own disobedience.

Our cries of injustice at a
back-of-lot parking space reach the ears
of the man bleeding and bashed for
our lies and selfishness.

He implores his father to forgive us,
knowing we are going to do it again.

That is the beauty of faith:
         A father who loves
         A spirit that guides
         A son that died

for us,
for you,
for me,
even for me.
Raphael Uzor Mar 2014
We were lost
Till are found
We resisted
Till we surrender!

Giving up our dreams
Giving up ambitions
Giving up passions,
That we once had.

Dropping our wills
Dropping our strengths
Dropping aspirations
And all about us.

All our wealth and pride
All our fame and power
Idiosyncrasies and efforts
Vanity upon vanity!

We are broken and bound
We are not servants
We are heirs, as sons
We are bondsmen!

We have a heritage
We belong to a kingdom
Denying ourselves
We have a new identity!

We live in Love
Dead to ourselves
Living ONLY for Jesus
We are dead men!

© Raphael Uzor
Inspired by Rom 6 and Col 2:20
Live for Christ, it's the only Life!
Raphael Uzor Apr 2014
Burning my will
In His fire of obedience
Drowning my woe
In cold drops of His blood!

Hanging gleefully
On acquiescent cross
Pleasures, pride and passions
Lost in eternal holocaust...*


© Raphael Uzor
Ceryn Mar 2014
An afternoon warm and dull and bland
Not so special for a nobody's girl in town
Hitting the roads on summer days
Hoping for a little fuss in her insipid space.

Looking for refreshments as the sun goes high
The girl decides to visit a kiosk nearby
Asking for a tumbler of cold cafe latte shake
Handing over some bucks to a lady so irate.

From afar, there goes a fine young man
Oh what a lovely bonus in sight!
Stopping by a lengthy row of costly cars
Not one from them seems to match his aplomb.

The day's warmth, no remedy, to his cool strides
Getting near, she looks away to dodge his hazel eyes
As he walks by, she looks up only to find him there
Gazing at her, but looks away when she pays a stare.

He heads off the streets, with no certain limit
To where his shoes might lead him to
While on a cafe nearby, the girl takes a mango pie
Just to get by the summer's funny tricks.

He enters the zone where the girl takes a sip
Of her heavenly cafe latte shake
Just a round table away, he takes a glance again
And the girl wonders just why he's there.

She checks her phone, holds her glass
Not even thinking 'bout the seconds that pass
Taking a sip, she tries to steal a glance
But in a jiffy, he's nowhere to be found.

Feeling disappointed, she rises from her seat
Leaving a tip on the beige table mats
But before she goes on, she notices a small note
On that young man's cluttered table top.

She reads a line from a song and it turns her on
But taking in the message doesn't feel right
It reads: *"Oh it's sad to belong to someone else,
When the right one comes along..."

— The End —