The POET

Funny I never reckon myself 
as the ….’the Poet’
Until life made me…’the poet’
And poetry, the lamp to my eviscerated soul
My staff, my strength in the lean seasons
The bridge to my eternity
A paradise surreal
To speak poetry
Eat poetry
Cry poetry
of how life thrust me the most imaginable unfairness
of when my first and only love left me and preached of my inadequacies
and I lost my twin brother and I was so powerless to save him
I was laid off and gross downcast and the thought of death I had to fight
Wasted because of my congenital disadvantages
Poor from the crown of my hair to the sole of my feet 
‘cause I wasn’t ‘smart’ like kinsmen
And I lost my farms to the flash floods
Bruised because I was feeble in my limb
Becoming the epitome paradox of life
Of the more you look, the less you see and poetry
The ash I eat because my heart bleeds
From life’s unrelenting tribulations (John 16: 33)
Yet I become cheerful,
Resolute and consoled at the core of my being
Until my troubles dry up from the cohered sand pores of my being
And overwhelming tears, joy unbound like rain welling up
fill up the dry river bed of my life
and sun shine after a stormy night
my face cracked into a non-hesitant smile
the type that hurt my nerves, and tears of joy starts trickling from my eye
sweet music from my mouth telling of life’s miracles I have
all of them happening to my Anno Domino
of the good and the bad that made me who I am
…’the poet’