Skip to main content

LOSING THAT BEAUTY


‘Oh let me see your face! I don’t want to go anywhere without your presence, Lord!’
I do the characteristic- that is, I pause
Reflectively, I begin to analyze
Dissecting every word and ruminating on every syllable
Could she (i.e the singer) have had visual hallucinations?
I listen again:
‘Take us into your holy place!’
Where is that holy place and for God’s sake, has she been there?
 Isuspiciously conclude that her visions must indeed be hallucinations
I come to me, and faintly remember that less syllabic dissection makes for a deeper immersion in the music and a calmer state of mind, a
A more beautifully attained state
For the more I dissect,
The greater the amount of beauty in godliness I resect
I fear that if I go deeper, I just might begin to resect away layers of the most important ‘variable’-
My love for God
I am a Christian!
And in that interface between scholastic sagery and Christianity where every manifestation is suspicious to the critical mind and subject to severity in dissection,
To every medic who subconsciously tosses out diagnoses in every public setting (at spinal level)
I understand-
For thus, we have been conditioned
But let us remember once again, to hold on to the moments;
Immersing ourselves and experiencing them
Without the scalpel


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

#MONDAY’S PROSE THIS CHILD; ON THE ROAD

Through my myopic eyes, a fleeting image of a little boy is formed on my retina A little boy in a little suit, Treading the familiar bushy routes before him The boy had neither escort nor directives And surely, he needed none For a 4 yr old on the road possesses more maturity than a 10 year old in ‘comfort’ Swiftly, she navigated through cars held in traffic An adventurous smile tugging at her split lips Providing snacks for impatient car-owners And though panting from car-chasing, She had a visible life of passionate content She probably planned to get off the street, Forsake her hypothetical ‘street-urchin boyfriend’, Give up this demeaning way of living, But I feared she wouldn’t! She hadn’t been wired to get off the street And sadly, she was too content to stage a forced exit. Children on the road and teenagers of the road, Not choosing to be this vulnerable Yet hooded and shrouded in the cold, Filled with shreds of hope that the fut...

#POETRY# MOMENTS

So, it’s another Monday. Today’s poem is on moments, appreciating them and taking second looks at the seemingly mundane. Enjoy! MOMENTS You never know, you just never know There he was last night, holding your hands, Looking into your eyes with passion beyond expression, And then; here he was this morning, telling a sad tale of never! Who knew love could become so tasteless overnight? It had seemed over in less than a flash; So much for the deep love you shared. Where it all ends, you just never know! Memories of baby’s not so far away childhood, Flickered before her eyes like a dimly lit flame Was it not just last summer she had started crawling? And in what appeared to be less than 24hours, She had walked, jumped and taken sandwiches to school And now, she fit smugly into a graduation gown, cape and all, Her baby was now a grown woman And those memories were all she had left! He stroked her tapered fingers lovingly as he wept by her beds...

GOD; will you help?

Isa 66:9 Do I open the womb and not deliver the baby? Picture this: A woman is wheeled into the operating theatre (if you haven’t been in one before, you must have seen one in movies). She has been informed that a caesarian section would be performed on her, for which she has given written consent. And so the obstetrician is poised for surgery. Subsequently, he makes an incision on her abdomen. Cuts through layers of skin, fat, fascia and muscles. Finally, he locates and opens up the uterus. Pause. He says he cannot go on. He is tired of the surgery.  Just too tired to go on. He wants to rest. He removes his gloves and gown, walks out of the suite with the woman still on the table, a breached uterus with a nearly non-viable child, whose rapidly declining heart rate screams in horror, still within. Does this make even the minutest amount of sense? I hope not. Because it doesn’t. Isa 66:9 Do I open the womb and not deliver the baby? Sometimes,...