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The Beatitude

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He descended into the depth of darkness
Opened his mouth and said..

Blessed are the living
Mixed blessings
As they await the dark days
That bring them closer to their dear grey graves
Though their years seem long
But like chaff before the windy wind
They cease to be.

Blessed are the wounded
For they have a tale to tell
Though legs and arms be gone
But the memories of war remain strong.

Blessed are the dead
For they have seen the end
No more sounds of bomb shall scare
Nor woes untold shall they tell.

Oh children,
Unburden your heart
When men say all sort of things against you
And call you orphans
For the sake of war.
Unburden your heart I say again
For he who is yet to cross the river
Shouldn’t call the crocodile names.

Of mothers,
Clasp thy palm around thy bosom
Those mounds that first fed your sons
Let thy cry ring across the dark
Your day is dry and darkened
Voice your voice across silent sacred street
of Jerusalem.

And wives,
These things I have told you before
That men shall come
As sympathizers
Like cats
To keep your meat safe
Do not listen to them
Or give ears to their hard vices
For these are the signs which I warned you against
They are the signs before the days of the red moon.

Let us pray…

by

Kolawole Oludare Stephen

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