ayo_ajayi

Lazy writer....mostly

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  • ayo_ajayi 9w

    Scarlet

    As blood spill down my thighs,
    I think hard on the daisies in Jordan,
    Grasping the remains of my childhood,
    Reminiscing on the days before I became a woman,
    Before my menses would not stop,
    A sharp sting; an unyielding mockery of my adulthood,
    I sigh again, I am spent,
    The doctors have said perhaps I was cursed,
    A child that should never have been born,
    Or perhaps, I had sworn against Asherah...
    A firm brush to my side pull me out of my reverie,
    "Jesus is coming!"
    More hostile this time:
    "Get away unclean woman! Jesus is coming!"
    A reminder that stung, a lifeline I took,
    This was the moment of my life,
    "If I may just touch the helm of His garment, I will be whole..."
    Time stood still in that moment, fears stilled,
    A torrent of thoughts quietened at the sight of one man,
    Grabbing my shawl, I crawl beneath the pressing crowd,
    A woman unworthy of her Lord,
    Ignoring throbbing cramps, I touch threadbare robes,
    An atmosphere of power I alone was privy to,
    Presence so unmistakable, I could only shiver,
    Virtue passed from God to man,
    Like weak knees, sickness had to succumb in that moment,
    A fountain dried, a plague overturned,
    Piercing light in thick darkness,
    And oh how I trembled at the brightness of that light,
    These eyes that now stare at me,
    "...Go daughter, thy faith had made thee whole..."
    A miracle worked on me. Forever.

    ©ayo_ajayi

  • ayo_ajayi 11w

    Niddah...

    As blood spill down my thighs,
    I think hard on the daisies in Jordan,
    Grasping the remains of my childhood,
    Reminiscing on the days before I became a woman,
    Before my menses would not stop,
    A sharp ache, an unyielding mockery of my adulthood,
    I sigh again, I am spent,
    The doctors have said perhaps I was cursed,
    A child that should never have been born,
    Or perhaps, I had sworn against Asherah...
    A firm brush to my side pull me out of my reverie,
    "Jesus is coming!"
    More hostile this time,
    "Get away unclean woman! Jesus is coming!"
    A reminder that stung, a lifeline I took,
    This was the moment of my life,
    "If I may just touch the helm of His garment, I will be whole..."
    Time stood still in that moment, fears stilled,
    Grabbing my shawl, I crawl beneath the pressing crowd,
    A woman unworthy of her Lord,
    Ignoring the throbbing pain, I touch threadbare robes,
    An atmosphere of power I alone was privy to,
    Virtue passed from God to man,
    Like bowing knee, sickness had to succumb in that moment,
    A fountain of blood dried, a curse overturned,
    Piercing light in thick darkness,
    And oh how I trembled at the brightness of that light,
    These eyes that now stared at me,
    "...Go daughter, thy faith had made thee whole..."
    A miracle worked on me. Forever.

    ©ayo_ajayi

  • ayo_ajayi 25w

    Bare

    Hands up, completely naked.
    All in full scrutiny,
    Uncovered layer by layer,
    Facet by Facet,
    Stone by Stone,
    Brass by Brass,
    Wood by Wood,
    Clay by Clay,
    Unable to hide,
    Summed moments with His time,
    Works tested by unquenchable fire,
    Every expression, every sigh,
    Every intention, every reason,
    Every thought, Every action,
    Laid bare and judged,
    Before the Righteous One,
    The Father who called you,
    The King who sent you,
    Eyes full of burning Justice,
    The Lord to His subject,
    He will test all,
    Weighing them on a scale,
    Did you build well? Did you tear down?
    Will your work count?
    Stripped, will they pay homage to Him?
    Was the service untainted?
    Sparkling white or caught in the darkness?
    Excuses would stand in grave silence,
    No call for witnesses or appeal,
    Knees will bow; You will bow,
    In grateful surrender, arms raised,
    Or in crushing defeat, gasping wails,
    You will choose. You choose now.
    Mortal with breath in still alive lungs,
    Live; Live for Him.
    Today. Till Death.

    ©ayo_ajayi

  • ayo_ajayi 28w

    Broken Memories

    All that’s left of my broken heart are scars,
    Shreds and shards of glasses plunged into me,
    These welts a reminder of the beautifully toxic love we had,
    Mama was right; time does heal,
    The memories don’t fade but at least they grow silent,
    Gray shadows of an aborted future,
    Each day bearable than the last,
    Shaky breaths but freedom nonetheless,
    Staggering steps but the movement I needed,
    I miss you- the ghost of what could have been,
    What should have been if there weren’t slaps or blows,
    If our words did not slit our throats,
    Making a mockery of the castle we built,
    Maybe some day, I would speak up,
    Courage pushing unspoken words from my depths,
    Perhaps I’d allow myself make again,
    Allow myself choose again,
    Allow myself trust again,
    Perhaps this heart would beat again at the sight of another,
    Perhaps the smile would really reach my eyes at the sound of another,
    Till then.
    Happy Anniversary. Stay dead.

    ©ayo_ajayi

  • ayo_ajayi 41w

    The Patriarchs' Diaries

    We could tell unending tales of how we suffered,
    How our feet bled as we wandered deserts,
    The days of cold and tortuous journeys in jagged mountains,
    Animal skins a decayed mess on ours as we walked,
    We could mention the torment we encountered,
    In lack and in darkness,
    In pain unrelenting as our bodies buckled,
    We could talk about the thrust to our sides,  
    Our heads hewn on slabs of pagans,
    Blood offered to soils we toiled in times past,
    Seers of the promise, who suffered for the promise,
    Speaking of the one to come in drought and in famine,
    Spokesmen, destitute and patiently waiting,
    Called yet of the God who had spoken everlasting words from our days,
    Words yet unfulfilled, words we longed for from afar,
    Words we prayed about, words we staunchly believed,
    Soldiers standing in total allegiance to unwavering faith,
    Imperfect indeed but in total surrender,
    We are heroes of faith,
    We died for the faith and we yet live,
    Frame forgotten but soul immortal,
    A cloud of faithful witnesses now cheering you on…
     
    ©ayo_ajayi

  • ayo_ajayi 59w

    Lady by the Well

    If you had told me,
    That these lips would utter your name,
    I’d have spit in your face,
    Like I did to those women whose husbands I stole,
    They could not win my cold heart,
    My body they wanted and that was all they got,
    So, when you called me as I drew,
    Asking me to fetch you some water, I laughed.
    A Jew talking to a Samaritan,
    Even worse, a full-fledged prostitute,
    In the noon of day. Aren’t men tired?
    But I listened; perhaps a little flirting won’t hurt,
    Sadiq was not expecting me home anyways…

    You spoke of some living water,
    And I wondered how you saw beyond the veil that adorned my face,
    How did you know I was lost?
    Drenched yet parched, how did you know I was dead?
    How could you see that I was damned?
    “Give me this water Sir so I thirst not”
    And that was when you mentioned him,
    Sadiq, my concubine, how did you know?
    How could you pierce the innermost secrets of my heart?
    “Sir, I perceive you are a prophet”
    But of course, you were much more,
    You were Christ, the fulfillment of prophecies,
    The one to save sinners-one like me,
    Your words fire, melting this stony core,
    Washing me anew from thick dross,
    Who would have thought?
    That I would race to the people who hated me,
    To talk about a God who loved me,
    Eyes bright, proclaiming, “Come see the man who told me everything I did”,
    The greatest miracle,
    Worked on me. Worked on a Village.

    ©ayo_ajayi

  • ayo_ajayi 65w

    Mission Possible

    He that is in me is greater,
    Than a thousand voices that attempt,
    That try to obstruct his sure assurance,
    He that is here with me is stronger,
    Than howling winds that blow,
    I stand firm on this rock,
    Unshaken and unfazed,
    Darts of the enemy in tireless storms,
    And I walk yet, heeding,
    His instructions, the mandate I need,
    His nod superior to fiery scowls,
    Confidently a soldier of Christ,
    Eyes focused, armed ready,
    His cross, a reminder of the unflinching victory I have
    His grave, empty, the greatest clapback of the century,
    His resurrection, a stellar triumph over the enemy
    I will not fear,
    He has told me not to and I will not,
    His rod and his staff, a comfort,
    A flood of peace beyond understanding,
    Drowning defiled thoughts as I rest ready,
    Calm as He reminds me that I am His,
    Father and Daughter,
    A God and His son,
    The spirit, immortal, right in man once mortal,
    An able God and a willing man,
    Unstoppable together,
    The mission is definitely possible.

    ©ayo_ajayi

  • ayo_ajayi 71w

    Almost Perfect

    I was almost convinced that I was perfect,
    If my closet was checked, I would come up empty,
    I had no "skeletons" whatsoever,
    Hands clean, I stood confidently before Him:
    “Master, I have not lied, or cheated, or stolen”
    “I have honored and kept, bed undefiled"
    “The law, I have hidden in my heart and I have not sinned”,
    And as I heard the admirable gasp and applause, I could look into His face.
    I could almost taste the commendation from his lips: “Well done, good and faithful...”
    An encomium that never happened,
    "...if you will be perfect, go and sell all you have, give to the poor and then come and follow me...”

    ...and that was when I saw the filth,
    The sorrow that gripped my soul,
    For I could not part with my possessions;
    I saw my pride in the gold I wore,
    And my anger in the pearls that guarded my wrists,
    I saw the rebellion that tainted my Keffiyeh,
    I tasted my emptiness; my hollowness as bitter as bile,
    Pulling my neck, I choked under the weight of the law,
    Its fine print judging me “condemned”,
    I needed him, the Savior, the master,
    My story, almost perfect as it was, was yet imperfection,
    I needed Him.

    ©ayo_ajayi

  • ayo_ajayi 71w

    The Samaritan Woman

    If perhaps you had told me,
    That these lips would utter your name,
    I’d have spit in your face,
    Like I did to those women whose husbands I stole,
    They could not win my cold heart,
    My body they wanted and that was all they got,
    So, when you called me as I drew,
    Asking me to fetch you some water, I laughed.
    A Jew talking to a Samaritan,
    Even worse, a full-fledged prostitute,
    In the noon of day. Aren’t men tired?
    But I listened; perhaps a little flirting won’t hurt,
    Sadiq was not expecting me home anyways…
    You spoke of some living water,
    And I wondered how you saw beyond the veil that adorned my face,
    How did you know I was lost?
    Drenched yet parched, how did you know I was dead?
    How could you see that I was damned?
    “Give me this water Sir so I thirst not”
    And that was when you mentioned him,
    Sadiq, my concubine, how did you know?
    How could you pierce the innermost secrets of my heart?
    “Sir, I perceive you are a prophet”
    But of course, you were much more,
    You were Christ, the fulfillment of prophecies,
    The one to save sinners-one like me,
    Your words fire, melting this stony core,
    Washing me anew from thick dross,
    Who would have thought?
    That I would race to the people who hated me,
    To talk about the love of a God,
    Eyes bright, proclaiming, “Come see the man who told me everything I did”,
    The greatest miracle,
    Worked on me. Worked on a Village.

    ©ayo_ajayi

  • ayo_ajayi 74w

    Unworthy Woman

    The little girl watched in silence as they "raped" her mum
    She winced as they slashed mercilessly with their words,
    If it were real, her mother would have been dead,
    Or maybe she was for the woman stood silent, eyes numb,
    "You whore! You are beyond redemption", they cried,
    "Shameless swine, your generation is cursed",
    "How dare she sleep with the priest; she probably lured him with those lips",
    "Take her to the square, stone her to death",
    She watched them push her Mum; she saw them strip her naked,
    She watched them scourge her pink lips with sharp sand till it turned bloody red,
    She followed them, noting their angry faces and vengeful hearts,
    She saw the priest join in beating the woman he kissed minutes ago,
    "Oh there's Jesus, let him judge her", he taunted,
    "He would definitely kill her, smashing her brain with the temple stones",
    "He knows the law of Moses, let him destroy her. Let him strike her till she dies",
    She heard them explain to this man what her mother did,
    She saw him stare and move towards the "unclean woman",
    She saw him drop the stone they thrust into his hands,
    She heard him say those words that saved her Mum,
    "Let he who has never sinned cast the first stone",
    She saw Jesus, she was never the same.

    ©ayo_ajayi